Such A Night
by IwritewhenIcannotread
Summary: Hermione sighed leaning back against her seat and staring out the window. This year was going to be different, she knew that much, but Hogwarts always seemed to find a way to take her expectations and amplify them by a hundred fold. It was going to be a long, long year for Draco Malfoy. Nothing, and he honestly knew that nothing, could ease the pain of the coming school year.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Things may be altered slightly from how they were in the books in order to better suit this fic. This includes, but is not limited to, characters, character personalities, minor plot events. It should also be noted that I have decided to change the timeline of the books so that they coincide with today – meaning that the story is taking place in 2015, this is for purposes that will become evident further along in the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or books, and all credit goes to JK Rowling.**

It was surreal to be back on platform 9 ¾. After all that had happened, to be here felt like a jab of nostalgic sadness straight to the gut. Every color was glaring at Hermione with a dimness unbefitting of her memories at King's Cross Station. It seemed that everything was dim these days. The war had by no means left her unscathed. Sure, she was alive, and Voldemort was destroyed, but there was an injury deep in her soul that was just beginning to scab over.

The only thing that hadn't drastically changed was her classmates. Professor McGonagall – or, Hermione supposed, Headmistress, now – had declared the previous year as entirely inept, requiring that every student repeat the year. Of course, that meant the First Year's class was double that of any of the others – combining the First Years from last year with the incoming ones of this year. Still, there was a stillness in the air, as if everyone around her were merely pretending as if nothing had changed, even though the stark reality that everything had.

Hermione clutched Crookshanks's cage closer to her, and he hissed faintly at the jostling around. She knew she ought to get on the train, but her reluctance to do so lay in the two males beside her – who, for the second time in her life – would not be boarding with her.

The first had been a total accident, with Harry and Ron showing up late after crashing Mr. Weasley's flying car into the Whomping Willow. This time, though, she knew they wouldn't be arriving late, and she'd be void of her two best friends for the coming year.

Mulling this over, her heart seized painfully, causing her breath to hitch and tears to prickle at her eyes. She wrapped her hand tightly around the handle of her luggage, and glanced at the two men.

Harry was currently hugging Ginny, who looked equally distraught as Hermione about leaving him behind. Hermione heard her whisper one last time, asking Harry if he was certain he didn't want to attend his last year. He nodded solemnly, giving her a kiss intimate enough that Hermione darted her eyes away. Ron stood next to her, his hands awkwardly in his pockets. He gazed at Hermione, a guilty look plaguing him. She knew he felt bad about not going, and, if she asked him to, he would at the drop of a hat, but he didn't want to, and she wasn't the type of girlfriend to force him to.

"I'll miss you, Hermione." He said softly, looking as though he wanted to kiss her. Again. Hermione clenched her fists, peeling her gaze away from her fiery-headed boyfriend and to the train.

"I'll miss you, too, Ron." She said delicately, not wanting to break down in tears. Again. Harry and Ron were useless when it came to crying girls, so she avoided burdening them with that whenever possible.

She turned back to him, leaning up to give him a quick peck on the lips, before facing the train, a determined look engraved on her features. In her peripheral vision, she saw Ginny likewise pull away from Harry. Hermione had had enough sense to say her goodbye to Harry before allowing him near Ginny, knowing that, otherwise, she never would. Setting her jaw, she hoisted herself onto the train, Ginny right behind her.

"It's crazy – them not being here." Ginny commented as they reached their car. "It doesn't feel right." The two girls secured their luggage and took their seats. The vacant seats beside them screamed volumes in Hermione's mind.

"I know." Hermione replied, her throat beginning to close. She smiled sardonically when the train, at long last, began to chug forward. "Maybe this year I'll actually get to do all my bloody schoolwork without having to worry about one of our lives being in danger."

"I don't know 'Mione." Ginny grinned, "Wouldn't want to change tradition!"

They laughed lightly, but it was hollow. Hermione's mind was back on the platform, and she guessed Ginny's was, too. Every other first day had been one of her most exciting days – but this time, it was one of the most dreaded.

It would definitely take some getting used to, although, it would probably be a bonus not having to keep the boys out of trouble. Goodness knows, Gryffindor might actually win by something other than Dumbledore's not-so-subtle favoritism.

Hermione sighed, leaning back against her seat and staring out the window. This year was going to be different, she knew that much, but Hogwarts always seemed to find a way to take her expectations and amplify them by a hundred fold. 

Draco Malfoy's nerves were at the end of their rope, and, unfortunately for him, the rope seemed to be fraying more and more with every passing second. Everyone – even the Slytherins – continually greeted him with wide, terrified eyes, or sharp glares.

It had been his mom's idea for him to come back for his final year. He'd pleaded and begged not to go, and he had even gone so far as to try to contract a deadly disease – he was Slytherin and, for a fact, not Gryffindor, after all – in order to get out of returning to Hogwarts.

Sitting in his usual car felt like torture – as if flames were literally bursting from everyone's eyes and Draco was being slowly but surely roasted. He fidgeted, his forearm burning with remembrance, where he was different; stained. Where there was a mark that set him apart.

The mark that caused everyone to see not Draco, but Voldemort.

He tore his eyes from the window, and met the gaze of Pansy Parkinson. She wore a look of thinly masked fear that made his skin crawl. Not six months ago, she had been all over him. Now that the Dark Lord had fallen, and he was blatantly known to have the Dark Mark, she could barely look him in the eyes.

Some part of him wanted to laugh bitterly. Strange how a person can support one side of a fight until it loses, and then switch to the other side so quickly and passionately that they convince themselves, either out of guilt or shame or fear, that they'd been on that side all along.

"Got a problem, Pansy?" He sneered, and she jolted, shaking her head and dropping her eyes.

His stomach clenched, a deep-seated pain pulling from deep within him. No one knew him, and they didn't know his motivations. They didn't know his situations and his choices. Hah, choices, oh how limited and dire every _choice _had been.

But, oh no, they thought they did. They knew Draco as well as anyone could – or so Rita Skeeter made them think. He felt a surge of hatred swell within him. He wanted to kill her, and not with something as simple as a killing curse, either. He wanted to make her feel pain. The sort of pain that he'd been subjected to. The sort of pain that he'd felt before the war, during the war, and, all thanks to her, after the war.

Draco grit his teeth, his fists clenched. He was magnificently aware of everyone's eyes skirting the room, and always making their way to him. They were all staring, even though their own skittishly irrational fear of eye contact convinced them otherwise.

He shot a glare upwards, directed at no one in particular.

It was going to be a long, long year for Draco Malfoy. He closed his eyes, hoping to drown out the flurry of guilt and hatred mingling in his mind long enough to get some rest, which was something he was sorely lacking lately.

Nothing, and he honestly knew that _nothing, _could ease the pain of the coming school year.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This story is a Dramione fic, but in the first bit Hermione will still be with Ron.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, sadly, nor do I own Hogwarts or have any affiliation with the books or movies. All copyrights go to JK Rowling.**

Hermione studied her schedule as she lay in her bed. Hogwarts's Seventh Year class was by far the smallest – given that many had either dropped out for this year, or already been given high-profile jobs due to their participation in the Battle of Hogwarts. Others had met their demise at the Battle, and had no way to attend even if they wanted to.

Hermione shoved that thought from her mind, looking at the sad dorm room around her. Ginny and Lavender shared it with her – but they were her only roommates. The two empty beds were left untouched and unmentioned by the three girls.

"What do you have first?" Ginny asked, sitting cross-legged on her own bed with her own schedule in her hand. Hermione frowned, dread curling around her heart almost to the point that she couldn't breathe.

"Double Potions." She said quietly. Ginny stared at her, waiting for the rest of the response. Signing with resignation, Hermione added, "With the Slytherins."

"Oh." Ginny breathed, sympathy sinking onto her features. "'Mione, I'm sorry. I'm sure you could talk to Professor McGonagall about it."

"I have no doubt that I could." Hermione agreed, "But that wouldn't do anything for the tension between the other houses and the Slytherins. Not all of them are bad, you know that."

"I do, but, Hermione," Ginny sounded uneasy, "No one would blame you for not wanting to face some of them. Everyone would understand."

"That's why I can't." She said, "I can't very well expect everyone else to be okay with them if I don't take it upon myself to do so. Even if I have… history… with some of the Slytherin members, I have to ignore that. When I work someday, I'm bound to come into contact with them, why not now?"

Ginny just shrugged, "You're clearly braver than me."

"I wouldn't say that." Hermione tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, "I didn't try dating the Chosen One, after all. Goodness knows, _that _is bravery."

Ginny chucked a pillow at Hermione's head, breaking the ice in the room. Both girls burst out laughing.

"No, you went for my brother instead." Ginny laughed, "Which I can't decide if that's just a lapse of judgment or plain sympathy."

"Ginny!" Hermione was shocked that Ron's own sister would say something like that about him. Ginny just shook her head, laughing even harder.

"I don't know what you see in him, but," She paused, looking serious suddenly, "I can honestly say that he's never been happier than since you two have gotten together."

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. Ron had never seemed unhappy before, and she couldn't detect any change now. In fact, he seemed sullen now, which she attributed to the war, not her. Ginny noted her expression, waving it away.

"You should've seen him when you weren't around. Right terrified he was, and a bit jealous of Harry, too." She remarked, "Sure, he's not happy-go-lucky, but that's hardly unusual. I can only imagine what it'd be like in our house if Ron didn't have you."

This thoroughly bothered Hermione – how could she have missed envy? And _sullen_? Ron? The only time he'd been 'sullen', that she'd known of, was when the three of them were fighting. Granted, that had been fairly often that two of their trio weren't speaking to each other, but they always made their way back in the end.

She thought all this, but stared at Ginny, and smiled faintly, forcing out a, "That's nice to know."

After that, Ginny went to take a shower and get ready for bed. Lavender was still in the Common Room, and Hermione figured she'd be there for a few more hours – there was a handsome Sixth Year she seemed to have taken a fancy to earlier this evening.

So Hermione was left alone with her schedule. She considered writing a letter to send to Ron or Harry, but thought better of it, given that it might be deemed pathetic for her to feel the need to write to them after seeing them only that morning.

Instead, she pulled out a book from her bag – not one to do with the wizarding world, surprisingly, but rather one of her favorites from back home. It had everything a good book ought to – a dash of humor, a bit of romance, a pinch of fantasy.

She curled onto her bed, opening the worn book, and flipping through the smooth pages until she found the spot at which she had left off. It was late, Hermione knew that she shouldn't read for too long, but one or two chapters surely couldn't hurt.

Draco had drawn the curtains on his bed, despite the fact that he was far from tired. Truth was, he couldn't stand the looks everyone gave him. Not to mention the fact that they all seemed to think that talking to him should consist of flattery (normally he wouldn't mind, if they didn't choose to compliment everything he did for fear he'd hex them), or dark magic (a topic he merely pretended to enjoy, but only resurfaced dreadful memories).

So, it hadn't taken long for him to have enough chatter and slip away into his dorm. A couple of his roommates – Theo and Blaise – were in there, but he'd wanted privacy. Draco had told them he was going to bed, and that's what he did.

Of course, it wasn't until he'd sat in bed for a few minutes did he realize he really should've snuck in something to do while hiding in the shadows of the bed. Heck, he'd grown so bored that _Hogwarts: A History _would be a sight for sore eyes.

He did have his schedule, not that that was helpful to either his boredom or discomfort. He had _double potions _with the _Gryffindors_ first thing tomorrow! Couldn't he catch a bloody break? He would've gladly taken Hufflepuffs or even Ravenclaws, but _Gryffindors_? They hated him before the war, and they certainly would hate him now.

He cocked his head. Not that he really blamed them. If he had been in their place, he'd hate him, too. Not that that made him any more thrilled about the idea. It's not like any of this was _his _fault. Well, not all of it.

Draco shook his head, memories fighting to the forefront of his mind but he managed to keep most of them at bay for the moment. Sinking into his mattress, he leaned his head against the wall behind him, wishing for the thousandth time that evening that he hadn't come back.

Hermione shifted, agitated, at the entrance to the potions classroom. Lavender had walked with her, but gone inside ahead of her when she had told her she needed to go back to the Gryffindor tower, under the pretense of a forgotten book.

There, of course, was no forgotten book, just useless, heavy dread. She peeked around the corner, spotting Slytherins whose lineages were all too familiar, and whose parentage was all too unspeakably violent.

She rested her head against the stone wall, inhaling deeply in an attempt to compose herself.

"Nervous, Granger?" A familiar voice asked, and she jolted, a shudder spiking through her as her eyes widened.

Draco was leaning easily against the wall opposite of her, his pale hair falling over his forehead neatly. Silver eyes pierced hers, and she blinked in surprise at the malice lacking in them.

"No, I'm waiting. For Lavender." Hermione said, her voice smooth contrastingly to the shakiness of her lungs. Draco glanced inside the classroom, and Hermione noticed that his fingers were tapping at his side, as if he was filled with nervous energy.

She supposed that could be true, given that his family had tried to kill a good half of the students in the classroom at one point or another.

"_You _seem to be the nervous one, Malfoy." She commented, hoping he didn't see that she was stalling. He flinched almost imperceptibly, a shadow curling across his face for a fleeting moment.

"What have I to be nervous about, Granger?"" He asked, the tenor of his voice was unwavering. She opened her mouth to reply, but at that precise moment, Lavender poked her head out the doorway, spotting Hermione instantly.

"Oh, there you are!" Her eyes widened with relief, "What're you standing in the door for? You're going to be late!" Her eyes wandered, finding Draco, and a hard look crested in her eyes. "Is he bothering you?"

Draco stiffened, staring at Lavender with a mixed expression of amusement and annoyance.

"Just having a cordial conversation." He assured her, although his tone strongly suggested sarcasm. He tossed a glance at Hermione, whose cheeks flamed at her uncovered excuse, and then Draco brushed past the two girls and into the classroom.

"It was nothing, Lav." Hermione told her, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, "Let's go."

They entered the dungeon and took their seats. Only about a minute passed before Professor Slughorn entered the room.

"Welcome back, students!" He said gleefully, making glittering eye contact with Hermione. "I hope you all had a wonderful summer!"

If by 'wonderful' he meant 'attending funerals and memorials whilst trying to clean up the mess Voldemort left in his wake and standing trial as a witness to put Death Eaters in Azkaban', then yes. Hermione's summer had been an absolute blast.

She was only slightly less irritated at the comment when silence took over the classroom at the statement.

"Well," Slughorn shifted awkwardly, "Today we will be studying a potion you all are familiar with, Veritaserum."

Hermione tensed, as did several others in the room. She noticed Draco jolt violently almost to the point of falling out of his seat. Professor grinned, "Previously, this potion was forbidden to use on students, but the Headmistress thought it might be a good idea for you all to understand just how potent it is."

Their teacher stared at each of them intently, "You will each be required to answer a couple of questions about the potion, and then you will attempt to brew it in accordance to your textbook – this isn't Sixth Year anymore, children! We are doing big things this year, big things!"

Hermione felt sick.

"Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn said slowly, "Perhaps you would like to go first?"

A look of unadulterated horror passed over Draco's face, and then he just swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and nodded, his composure scrambled back into place.

He stood, and made his way to the front of the classroom, where Professor Slughorn held a small vial. Turning to Draco, he assured him, "You are having one drop, and I strongly recommend that you don't get yourself into situations in which you must lie for about an hour after this – so, this class, essentially."

"Duly noted." Draco said, and their professor placed a small drop onto his tongue.

"Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel in regards to the new school year?" Professor asked. Draco blinked, gritting his teeth for a moment, veins tensing in his neck. He was trying to hold back, Hermione realized.

"Perturbed." He admitted, grinding his teeth together after the word rolled off of his tongue. A couple of students snickered, but his glare shut them up.

"And why do you feel perturbed, Mr. Malfoy?" Slughorn continued, seemingly oblivious to Draco's reaction.

"Now why do you suppose?" He sneered, and Hermione wondered if he wasn't saying that to delay his real answer. As if to prove her point, words spilled out of his mouth a moment later, "Because everyone bloody hates me here. Am I bloody done now?"

Professor Slughorn allowed a succession of surprise, offense, and then slight understanding before resuming his professional stature and nodding, dismissing the student to his seat.

Draco locked his eyes on the far wall when he sat back down.

Draco was fuming, but kept his mouth firmly shut whenever possible. There was a fine line between telling the truth and having it ripped out of you. He glowered. Theo, after a moment, leaned towards him.

"You alright?" He asked cautiously. Draco's mind managed to think a series of expletives as the truth bubbled in his throat of its own accord.

"What do you bloody think?' He asked, stalling, but the words were there, right on his tongue and slipped out just after it, "Not in the slightest."

Heat prickled at his neck and cheeks, and he averted his gaze, scowling at the wall.

Thoughts roared in his mind, but he managed to bite his tongue to keep from spilling them all out. He was so intently focused on doing that, that for the next half an hour, while students answered their own Verita-induced questions, he didn't process a word.

"Ah, we've finally reached Miss Granger!" Professor Slughorn decreed. Draco automatically tuned back in. He glanced up, peeling his mind from the depths of anger it resided in, and returned to his senses.

He was curious about her. He knew she was apt at telling lies – her lie about Lavender's forgotten book simply reinforced what he'd always suspected of her – and he was curious to see how Gryffindor's princess would handle this.

Slughorn placed a tiny drop on her tongue – had his drop been that small? It had tasted utterly foul, so much so that the taste still reverberated in his mouth.

"Miss Granger, how was your summer?" She blanched at the question. Good gracious, in what way did the professor manage to pluck the worst questions? He knew how her summer must've been, but what she said struck him deeper than he'd been expecting.

"Dire. Horrible. Tragic. Endless. Need I go on, sir?" She asked, her voice polite, but her eyes fiery.

"No, that will do." He said, looking, finally, slightly unsettled. His next question was clearly in reaction to her reply. "Why was it that way?" He finally asked, although Draco thought it was evident why, and to ask her to spell it out with no option of holding her tongue was cruel.

She stared at Professor Slughorn in dazed offense. She sighed, glaring at him before the words made their way out. Draco almost grinned. Since when did Hermione glare at teachers? "I spent my summer seeing coffins lowered into the ground and people who tried to kill me listen to my account of them doing so. I spent my summer mourning and angry and doing all I could to get myself together before I came back here so _no one would know _how utterly terrible my summer had been."

Now Draco was impressed. Not only had she glared at him, but she'd raised her voice and answered honestly while injecting all her anger into the reply. She made eye contact with him, and he simply raised an eyebrow.

Her brown eyes were shining with pain and silent fury. Every muscle in her face was taut, and she just scowled at him. After a moment, her scowling set off his own, rather short-fused, temper, and he just glared back at her.

Finally, she turned to their teacher, who gestured that she was done, and she stormed back to her seat, eyes locked on the ground after that.

The rest of the class passed rather uneventfully, save a couple of unnecessary outbursts from Draco (Thank you, Slughorn), and by lunch, he was fairly certain all of the serum had worn off.

He paused on his way to the Great Hall, suddenly struck with the fact that he hadn't exactly planned what to do in this situation.

Draco cursed under his breath, and pivoted, turning down a long corridor leading somewhere. He didn't really care _where _it was headed, so long as it wasn't the Great Hall. He knew where the kitchen was – he could get food later.

Somehow, he wound up in front of the library doors. Well, there were worse places. At least in the library no one could insult him louder than a couple of decibels.

Slipping inside, he ignored the librarian's assurance that he knew to be quiet, and slid to the back corner. He picked up a book, an entirely random book off of a random shelf, and plopped onto the small sofa nearby.

There were a couple of students in the library, all busy doing something or another, and, luckily, too busy to pay him much attention. He rolled his eyes, amused, when he saw that, to the effect of much irony, the book he'd grabbed was _Hogwarts: A History_.

"_Malfoy_?" A shocked voice emanated from above him. His gaze shot up, startled. He hadn't seen or heard anyone approaching. Hermione stood directly in front of him, gazing down, incredulous, at both him and his choice of book. "What the bloody hell are you doing in my spot?"

**A/N: Thank you to those of you who have favorited or followed! I know a couple of you have and it means the world to me! Please leave your thoughts below, I'd love to hear from you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello there! I just wanted to reiterate that this is a Dramione fanfic, and even though Hermione is with Ron currently, they will separate eventually in what I hope does not offend those of you who love Ron (As I do).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with Harry Potter and all rights go to JK Rowling.**

Hermione could honestly say that of all the people she had expected to see in the library, Draco Malfoy was last on the list. She could have grabbed a book and trudged grumpily over to her normal spot and seen Harry or Ron and she would've been less surprised.

But, of course, it couldn't have been either of them, or anyone she liked for that matter. It had to be Draco _bloody _Malfoy, sitting in _her _seat, reading _Hogwarts: A History_. She doubted anyone had actually read that book but her, or cared to, but there he was, defying her beliefs.

"Granger." He said awkwardly, looking just as surprised as her. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm practicing Quidditch." She deadpanned, "What in Merlin's name do you suppose I'm doing here?" His gaze flicked to the book in her hand.

"I meant," He amended, closing the book in his hands, "Why aren't you in the Great Hall with your friends?"

Hermione snorted at the look on his face. "You sound jealous." She said, and he glared. She just shrugged, adding, "I wasn't in the mood to pretend everything's daisies and lollipops."

"That makes two of us." He grumbled, before pausing and muttering, "I hate Veritaserum."

"That makes two of us." Hermione fought a grin from taking over her face. He glanced up at her after another moment.

"What are you standing there for?" He finally asked.

"You're in my seat. I thought I made that fairly clear, though perhaps you misunderstood the meaning of me explicitly saying so." She mused, her mouth finally losing out to a grin. He rolled his eyes.

"There are plenty of other seats." He muttered.

"Agreed. I reckon you'll find one of them satisfactory." She quipped, slightly annoyed now. He exhaled noisily.

"Granger, I hardly think you need to sit in this exact seat." He said. She shrugged.

"It's where I have always sat. And," She paused, "It's got the most privacy, anyhow. I don't like being disturbed while I'm reading." She wasn't entirely sure while she felt compelled to tell him this.

"Precisely why I chose it." He agreed, "Though," He said, in afterthought, "I'm finding it loads less peaceful than I was hoping."

She set her jaw, and they met eyes in a mutual glare.

He huffed, making a dramatic display of getting up and gesturing for her to have the seat before storming off and muttering something about the book being rubbish anyways. She smiled, triumphant, and curled into a ball on the small couch, opening her book.

Before she started reading, she glanced at the clock. She didn't have a long time before heading to Advanced Defense against the Dark Arts class, but she could probably finish the book. Hermione'd read far more than she really meant to the night before, and was further along than she would have otherwise anticipated.

Draco spent the remainder of the lunch break sitting at a table in the library and glaring at anyone who considered choosing one of the other seats left open at the table. He had ditched the book, exchanging it for one detailing potions. It was dull, but it was bearable.

When at last he could, he made his way to his next class without delay. Without being thoroughly excited about the class, Professor McGonagall had assured him that it would help others see that he wasn't as evil as some of them believed. He had laughed at her, telling her no one would change their opinions due to his class choice and that he'd much rather take Divination or some blow-off class.

She'd ignored him and put the class in his schedule anyways.

He entered the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom and taken a seat in the back corner. The class was in small enough demand that all of the houses were being forced to take it together.

Draco pulled out his wand and textbook, biding his time patiently. He rested his chin on his hand and stared unseeingly at the far wall. Slowly, the classroom filled up, and, to his great misfortune, he recognized a great deal of Gryffindors in the class. He doubted many Slytherins cared to take it, and Hufflepuffs were dense enough to believe they wouldn't need it. Ravenclaw took the cake for the second most quantity.

The seat next to him, needless to say, remained empty.

Which didn't bother him at all.

"Hello, class." Draco had entirely forgotten the Snape was no longer in charge of the class, and clearly, if the jolts of surprise around him were anything to go off of, so had several of his classmates.

Hermione, who was sitting in the front row, let out a choked sound, her head snapping up so fast that Draco was amazed at how she didn't crack her neck.

The woman at the head of the classroom, upon first glance, reminded Draco of Umbridge. After a terrified moment, he noticed the black robes and kind face distinguishing her from the horrid Ministry-sent woman. Still, the likeness was uncanny.

"I am Mrs. Trifleton, many of you are familiar with my sister, Dolores Umbridge." She continued. Well, at least that explained the similarities, "I do hope you will find me more pleasant than her, though!" She laughed, and there were nervous chuckles emitting from the class.

"This week we will be working on Occlumency." She continued, "You will be working in partners in order to fully understand and master it. Today, you will begin research and get with your partners. Tomorrow until the end of week we will put what you have learned into practice."

Hermione glanced backwards at the class, noticing with some degree of confusion that Draco looked stricken. His eyes had brightened to an alarming intensity of silver, as if it had been polished to the point of reflecting any and everything with the clarity or a mirror. His skin, however, had paled slightly, and he didn't seem to be moving a muscle – and scarcely seemed to be breathing.

Hermione frowned, returning her attention to Mrs. Trifleton, who was explaining what she was expecting them to know by tomorrow. After a few minutes, she dismissed them to pair up with each other.

Lavender turned immediately to Hermione, expecting them to be partners, or, perhaps, just wanting them to be so that she didn't have to do any work. Hermione, however, kept finding her gaze wandering to Draco, who looked unsettled at the prospect of both finding a partner and finding a partner with which he was comfortable sharing bits of his mind with.

"Lav," Hermione said carefully, "I've got a different partner." Lavender frowned, glancing around to see who could possibly be pairing up with Hermione other than her, but didn't have time to question it because Hermione moved slowly over to Draco.

He did a double-take when he saw her approaching, and she once again noticed how horrified he seemed. No amount of false confidence could disguise the fear shining like the moon on a cloudless night in his eyes.

"Granger?" He said quizzically. Hermione wagered that his mind wasn't all insults, and she figured, if he didn't already know Occlumency, his mind might actually be interesting to break into.

"Draco," She, she took the vacant seat next to him, noticing with slight embarrassment how soft and uncertain her voice sounded, "Would you like to be my partner?"

She watched with fascination as emotions battled in his eyes. Relief warred against the ever-present fear as he stared at her, looking somehow unsurprised and utterly shocked at her question.

"Fine." He said it with a spitting edge, but she decided not to take it personally. After all, she wasn't thrilled that he was about to delve into her mind, either. She grabbed his textbook and pulled it towards her, flipping it open.

"You should read these pages," She pointed them out to him, and he nodded vaguely. "And the book you were reading in the library details the history of Occlumency." Draco smirked.

"I hardly consider that reading." He said, "But you mentioned that I should read the pages. Not you?"

"I-"

"Have already read it, I presume." He interrupted. She flushed.

"It's not as if that's a bad thing, Malfoy." She defended, crossing her arms across her chest. He just allowed his smirk to rise higher on his cheek.

"I never said it was." He replied. She blinked, opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it shut after a moment. That had sounded almost like a compliment. From Draco. A compliment from Draco.

Hermione's brow furrowed as her mind seemed to skip around, thrown off track by the bizarre statement. She stared at him for another moment before realizing that she had no reply and just sliding the book over to him for him to read.

"You're surprised." He noted, skimming over the words, looking bored, "Why?" Hermione readjusted in her seat.

"That wasn't cruel." She said honestly, half wondering if Professor Slughorn had lied about the Veritaserum rubbing off after an hour. He quirked an eyebrow, his face unreadable.

"I'm not always cruel." He said, before smirking once again, "Just most times."

"That's nothing to be proud of." Hermione commented, and he glanced up, looking her dead in the eyes.

"I know." He said evenly, the smirk wiped clean off his face. His eyes drifted back to the pages, skimming them once again. Hermione was thankful, because that statement had just short-circuited her mind once again.

Luckily, the class ended not long after that, so Hermione wasn't forced to dwell on the strange remarks for longer than necessary. The rest of the day passed in a blur of uneventful minutes ticking by into hours of dullness ticking by until she at last collapsed on her bed in a fit of boredom.

"Hermione?" Ginny laughed, "You alright?" Hermione maneuvered herself into a sitting position.

"I didn't realize how dull things could be without Harry and Ron." She replied, and Ginny just shrugged.

"It probably wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't skipped out on lunch. Neville asked Luna out." Ginny said. Hermione nodded.

"I heard. It's about time." She managed a smile for her friends, "But I wasn't in the mood to be with… people."

"Ah, the library is the perfect escape for that." Ginny pointed out, grinning.

"It didn't quite go as planned." Hermione admitted, and Ginny just raised her eyebrows to urge her friend on. "Draco was in my chair."

"Oh gosh." Ginny feigned horror. Well, half-feigned. Then her face grew serious and she locked her eyes on Hermione's. "'Mione, did he say anything to you?"

"No." She replied, "Well, yes, but no." She rolled her eyes at Ginny's confusion. "We did engage in conversation but he did not say anything in the context that you are thinking." Hermione elaborated, "Surprisingly."

"Everyone says he's been really quiet today." Ginny said, "Except for Potions class. I hear he was a right jerk to everyone."

"That wasn't entirely his fault." Hermione commented, and Ginny stared at her, forcing her to add, "Veritaserum is stronger than you'd imagine."

"Oh. Right." Ginny turned to the door suddenly, fingering something just inside her pocket. "Would it be pathetic to send Harry an owl?"

"No." Hermione felt the need to say, "I almost sent him and Ron one yesterday."

Ginny just nodded slowly before saying, "I should probably send it before it gets too late, then."

She left not long after that. Hermione clambered into bed and turned off the light, closing her eyes. Unfortunately, her mind seemed to have other ideas than sleeping, and was buzzing at a high velocity that seemed to draw her more and more awake with every moment that she tried to sleep.

Draco couldn't sleep. How come when at most one is desperate for sleep, it seems to be all the more evasive? He fidgeted in a futile effort to get comfortable. It wasn't his physical comfort that was the issue, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was.

He sighed, sitting up. His mind simply refused to shut off. Every time he closed his eyes it would drudge up a crystal clear memory. He would be able to smell the blood, and feel the magic mixing with the cold wind on his skin. He could see down to every speck of dust or blade of grass. He could hear every scream.

And he would snap his eyes open, perspiration beaded on his forehead, and try it all again.

His mom had tried everything. Not even sleeping potions worked anymore – just like any medicine, the mind grew accustomed and immune to them after too much use. So Draco was subjected to the gut-wrenching guilt during his waking hours and stomach-churning cowardice during his sleep.

He growled faintly, pulling open the curtain and slipping out into the night. He didn't even bother to grab his wand, and he walked sullenly through the dark common room and out into the open Hogwarts air.

It was serene, the quiet. It lacked the bustle of whispering first years and the taunts of immature third years. It was vacant of the stares and the comments; void of the shame and confusion.

Draco thought he might make a habit of strolling about at night, as it seemed to do wonders for his psychological health. Only after his feet grew numb did he realize he forgot shoes. Frowning, he glanced down at the dusty walkway.

Wind whistled at the windows, and a shiver ran through Draco. He'd forgotten a jacket, too. He froze in the middle of the corridor, his eyes shooting to his arm. What he saw sent the hairs on his neck standing tall.

It was faded, but permanent. The dark ink of the Dark Mark tattooed onto him.

He crossed his arms, hiding it from view, and scrambled forward, his footsteps echoing with a useless hurry.

A faint shock sparked inside him when he found himself staring at the doors of the library. Darkness blanketed the expansive room, which was a foreign state for the place that required constant lighting.

He glanced around furtively, to be sure no one was coming, and opened one of the doors just wide enough to allow him inside.

The bookshelves loomed overhead, casting even darker shadows over the dark floor. Draco felt strangely comforted by it all. The darkness and the vacancy were somehow homely to him.

He tilted his head, wondering what that said about him.

Shaking the thought off, he continued perusing the aisles. Draco's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and he was able to make out individual books on the shelves. When he turned the corner of one row of books, turning to face the back, he blinked several times.

There was a light A faint light, no doubt, but it was definitely a light.

He started towards it, and he could make out a book in the faint lighting. He also noticed a wand attached to the orb of light, and a silhouette attached to the wand. When he got close enough to see the figure, he rolled his eyes, chuckling sardonically.

The figure stood abruptly, the book tumbling to the floor. The two looked at each other for a long moment, neither saying a word. Finally, the figure's voice broke the veil of quiet tranquility succumbing them both.

"You're here?" Hermione grumbled, sounding tired and as unhappy about it as he was, "Out of the entire castle?" She dropped the hand holding the wand, to the light moved with it, lighting her legs and feet. "Oh, it figures."

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave your reviews for me, as I would love to know what you think so far! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I love you all, and appreciate y'all taking the time to read this! It is not overlooked and I am so grateful for every one of you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with Howarts or Harry Potter and all credit and rights go to the wonderfully talented JK Rowling.**

"Hello, Granger," He waved lamely, and Hermione continued to glare at him. No one ever came to the library in the middle of the night, save a few wandering, desperate Gryffindors searching for her in dire need for homework help.

Translation: Mostly Harry and Ron finally giving up on their much procrastinated Potions homework.

"What are you doing here?" She spluttered, crossing her arms and causing the light to flit around the room to follow her wand.

"Couldn't sleep." He muttered, "You either, from the looks of things." She just nodded, glancing backwards in search of her book. When she turned back to face Draco, he was fidgeting, as if trying to hide something.

Too late, she realized what it was.

Her eyes locked on his arm, which he was trying to discreetly slip behind his back. She froze, and Draco did, too, when he saw where her eyes remained transfixed. The mark blackened in the dim lighting, no longer looking faded, as she had seen.

She shivered, her wand snapping off its light, dousing them both in shadows. Draco's eyes clouded over like dusty silver flatware. Hermione finally averted her eyes, her hand running through her hair, anxiety bubbling in her as she turned abruptly. Dropping to the ground, her hands sought out her fallen book.

"I usually make sure to cover it." He said at last, just as her hand clutched her book and brought it to her chest. Draco was staring at her, seemingly intrigued by her reaction. She stood, noting also, to her amazement, shame that hid just beneath the curiosity. Calming her hair, she nodded curtly at him.

"You should make certain no one else sees that." She said dryly, "They might not handle it as well as I did." He raised an eyebrow, one side of his lip curling upward.

"As well?" He replied, "You stared in horror and scrambled to gather your belongings." Hermione flushed.

"It was a calm reaction, all things considered." Hermione's eyes darted around the room, forcibly avoiding the focal point that she so badly wanted to return her gaze to once again. Draco followed her eyes lazily.

"Anything interesting in the corner, Granger?" He asked, and she shook her head. He paused, "I don't know why you're making such a habit not to stare, it's not as if I'm not used to it."

She was struck by the bitterness in his words, her eyes snapping to his. He donned a slight scowl.

"I am not redirecting my gaze for your sake." She commented, and he just stared, "If you must know, that mark makes me unsettled."

"Me too." He chuckled darkly, and it was Hermione's turn to stare. He caught her gaze, "What?"

"You just confuse me." She admitted, "One moment you're a right jerk, the next you're boring, and the next you're like the shy kid in the corner of the class without friends."

"Oh, thanks, that does loads for my ego." He muttered wryly.

"Well, it doesn't need any inflating." She quipped. When he went silent, she wondered if she said something wrong. "Why couldn't you sleep?" She asked after a moment, and he hesitated.

"Blaise has a girlfriend." He grinned when she flushed. "Although it's safe to assume it's okay to go back now." He turned to go, but he only got a couple of steps before pivoting to face her. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"My mind doesn't know how to shut up." She said, and his eyes just flicked with amusement to her book before he turned back around. Draco held up his hand in a two-fingered salutation, turning it a couple of degrees to the side, in an almost wave.

"You'd think all that reading would wear it out." He commented, his voice echoing through the room, "See you tomorrow, Granger."

And with that, he turned the corner and exited her view.

Hermione stared after him for a moment, before flopping herself dazedly back on the couch and whispering _lumos maxima, _her fingers already flipping through the pages to her bookmark.

Draco had been dreading Defense against the Dark Arts all day. Well, actually he'd been dreading everything all day, but this class was by far at the top of the _To Be Dreaded _list. He sat in the back corner again, dwelling on the events to come.

He hadn't been looking forward to Occlumency in the first place, but after reading about it, he had a knot in his stomach tight enough to prevent him from an appetite. Not that he could keep the food down if he tried, and he had.

"Good afternoon, class!" Mrs, Trifleton stood at the front of the class, looking exceptionally chipper in enough yellow to rival the sun itself. Draco grimaced, and she continued. "When you pair up today, you will take turns attempting to infiltrate each other's brains while, of course, also taking turns trying to prevent your own brain from being invaded."

Draco's stomach knot became twice as tight.

"I trust you all know to be _careful _in this process, as the brain is nothing to mess with." She warned, "If you did your reading, you'll know what to do, and if you didn't, I'll know."

Draco didn't move from his seat. He watched as Hermione tentatively skirted her eyes around his from across the room before meeting his gaze. Eventually, she skirted not just her eyes but her entire self over to him, her steps slow, hesitant.

"Hello." She said quietly. Draco stared up at her, flicking his gaze to the seat. She followed it, sitting down across from him. There was a moment of silence.

"You can go first." Hermione blurted at the exact same moment Draco offered, "I reckon you'll want to go first?"

They resumed their awkward silence.

"Okay." Hermione stated decisively, and Draco wondered if she was just agreeing so they didn't waste too much time. Draco curled his fingers around his wand, noting the sounds of hesitant incantations surrounding him, and the ragged gasps of those whose minds were being penetrated.

He stared at Hermione, her brown eyes hardened with determination. He pointed the wand at her, his voice even as he said, "_Legilimens._"

He saw Hermione, and then he saw _Hermione._ His mind slammed into hers as if Apparating directly into her brain. Draco panicked, which, accidentally, drove him deeper into her mind. Distantly, he heard her gasp.

He hit a sudden wall, bouncing off of it and landing swiftly into a memory that he didn't recognize. Dazed, he glanced around.

He was in a tent of some sort, and there were half a dozen redheads. Clearly Weasleys. He blinked, orienting himself as Fred and George appeared to be causing a general ruckus, while Ron and Harry seemed to be fawning over… Krum?

Oh.

He felt Hermione laughing, though she rolled her eyes at the boys' antics. Draco found himself mildly surprised at the carefree emotion bubbling through him, or, he supposed, her – he'd never seen her so void of stress before.

Wait, if this was the Quidditch World Cup, then that meant –

Mr. Weasley barged into the room, and then things sped up, as if the memory was being thrown out of control. Draco rolled his eyes, fighting against Hermione for control of the scene. He registered people running every which way – they were apparently outside now.

He felt a surge of panic and worry shoot through him, and then Hermione inhaled, composing herself.

Muggles were floating – funny, his father had left that part conveniently out when recounting the details of this night.

Things sped up again, and he hit another wall, bouncing out of the World Cup and into another tent.

Confused, he checked to see if perhaps this was the same evening – but it felt different. No, _she _felt different. He felt her convulse silently beneath him, her chest rocking violently with sobs.

Someone called her name, and she stopped abruptly, sniffling wildly as she sat up. Harry poked his head in through the tent, and she turned her head.

"Hermione," Harry sounded surprisingly soft, "It's going to be alright." Hermione turned to him, and Draco felt her astonishment. Harry stared at her, seeing the tracks of tears on her face.

The vision tilted, blurred, and he bounced out of the memory again. He shot a glare upwards, though he knew she couldn't see him. Draco couldn't even blink before he hit another wall and rocketed through her mind again, and again, and again.

He felt his elbow collide mercilessly with the table behind him as he was ejected from her brain. Letting out a rather unmanly whimper, he cradled his elbow faintly before registering Hermione's terrifying glare.

"What?" He asked, and he noticed there were splotches of red on each of her cheeks. "Oh, come on!"

"Why those memories?" She demanded, and he realized the redness was a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"I couldn't very well control what happened, Granger!" He cried, "Especially with you bouncing me around all the time!"

She didn't reduce her glare, her hand gripping her own wand tightly. Draco froze, staring at it in horror.

"My turn." She said quietly, a little too eager for Draco's liking, and taking care to point the wand directly at his forehead before speaking. "_Legilimens._"

Hermione found herself in the bathroom. She recognized Hogwarts instantaneously. She was bent over the sink – or, Draco was – heaving as if oxygen couldn't get to her lungs quickly enough.

It was then that the emotions struck her. If she'd thought she'd at any point carried dread, she had nothing on Draco. The dread that succumbed her was despairing, and a full-fledged panic surged through her. The room suddenly felt overheated.

The heat became too much to bear, and Draco yanked violently on his vest, pulling it off and tossing it carelessly to the side as his hands returned to their death grip on the sink. Hermione felt him glance up, catching a look at him in the mirror.

His pallor was ten shades too pale, and his eyes were the color of an overcast day. But Draco didn't get a pause much longer than that to look at himself, because there was a voice behind him. A voice she would recognize until the day she died.

Harry.

She blinked, surprised, and then the memory turned upside down, spinning and blurring and tossing her this way and that. She grabbed hold of the memory, pulling it to a stop just as Harry screamed, "_Sectumsempra!_"

A wave of pain washed over her, agony filling her limbs. It came as a relief when a wall slammed violently against her, jolting her out of the scene.

Struggling to catch her breath, Hermione found herself in an expansive room. It was dark, swathed in shadows. It took her but a moment to remember the room, and just as she did, a earth-splitting scream rocked through the air.

It was her scream.

Draco was moving now, and then Hermione saw herself come into view. Bellatrix had her wand out, pointing it vivaciously at her. Draco came to an abrupt halt, and she felt his eyes widen at the sight of her writhing on the floor.

A slow sensation trickled through her veins, cold and heavy. Horror.

And then another wall hit, and Hermione guessed that the scene had become just invasive enough that Draco had found the power to shove her from it – as she had been able to with him.

With a start, she found herself at the Yule Ball. Draco was turning towards the stairs, where Viktor Krum waited at the bottom. Hermione just had time to see the corner of a dress appear around the corner before she was rammed in the nose with a very solid, very afraid wall.

She clung to the wall, trying to force her way past it. She wasn't done in his mind yet. It didn't budge and she growled indignantly, trying a different tactic. She followed along the wall until it ended, and there seemed to be a ledge just beyond her feet.

She heard a faint voice, just beginning to register her limbs as the voice repeated the same thing over and over, a fervent whisper. "Get. Out. Of. My. Mind. Granger."

She took a breath, and jumped.

Impact hurt, but not as much as the guilt rolling through her in a constant bombardment. Draco was standing in the ruins of Hogwarts, crumpled bodies discarded around him. This was the Battle of Hogwarts.

Her knees became wobbly, and she felt Draco collapse, taking her with him. The scent was heavy with blood, and magic licked at her skin. Draco stared ahead, seeing and unseeing at the same time.

In a daze, he clenched his fists until blood oozed from the crescent cuts his nails created. Hermione blinked, feeling her mouth fall open in surprise. She felt her eyes well up with tears, not of sadness, not of joy, not of anything short of desperate, raw, pain.

"_Get out of my head!_" The voice roared in her mind, splitting her ears. And then she was ousted. She knew this time that she couldn't cling onto his mind. The jab he sent her way throbbed, her head aching as she was thrown back into reality.

Hermione rocked back in her seat, staring at Draco for an obscene amount of time. His eyes were locked on his tightly clasped hands.

His jaw was clenched, his teeth grinding together as he visibly kept from screaming at her. Draco's eyes were far away, cracking before her like glass. She opened her mouth to speak, but he just gave a subtle shake of his head, just a degree of movement in either direction.

Glancing around, she noticed that the class had fallen silent. Everyone, including Mrs. Trifleton, was staring at Draco and Hermione. She returned her gaze to Draco, who's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Draco…" She trailed off, uncertain of what to say. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers, and for once she saw Draco in them. Not Malfoy, not the façade of calamity he always had, but truly Draco.

The hatred blended so perfectly with guilt.

He blinked, slowly, and when his eyes fully opened again, what she'd seen was all but gone.

"Granger," His voice was low, serious. Hermione stared at him, her heart thudding as she recalled the memories she'd just experienced. Reading her expression, he said, "You weren't supposed to see that."

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review! I hope you're enjoying it so far, I love y'all! 3**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, I'm not sure how often I'll be updating this story, because I do have a sort of life (by that, I mean books and loads of homework). I will try to update at least once every couple of days, seeming as my chapters aren't necessarily that long. Anyways, I'll do my best to keep the next installments coming.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All rights to JK Rowling.**

Draco's body shut down. Slowly, from his prison somewhere in the back corners of his mind, he could feel every system shooting into overdrive, and then collapsing altogether. His brain was running at a high level, but for how much longer, he wasn't sure.

His muscles seemed to have tensed for good, to the point where he wasn't sure he could move even if he tried to. His bones felt decades older than they should have – worn and weary and trying to hold up too much weight.

Draco himself wanted to hex something, anything. He wanted to scream, and he wanted, above all else, to be alone. The worst thing, he discovered, was not experiencing events that became his worst memories, nor was it reliving them. It was having someone else live through them, feeling everything he'd felt, and seeing everything he'd seen, without his consent.

Hermione was staring intently at him, waiting for an explanation, he supposed. Mrs. Trifleton looked worried, but continued to scan their faces from afar, apparently sensing that this was not an ordinary situation, and she'd best wait until things seemed to either get worse or ease up a bit.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, and he found it odd that she'd taken to using his first name. Twice in the span of a couple minutes. But, he could probably do with calling her by her first name as well, given that they had just seen into each other's minds.

"Just give me a second, okay?" He managed, decidedly focusing on inhaling and exhaling, rebooting his cardiovascular and respiratory systems. Once they began running again, granted, at the slowest pace possible, he could work on unclenching his fists, and making small movements.

"It's been five minutes." She said, "Are you okay?"

His eyes met hers, and he was surprised to see that she was unsettled. The rest of the class seemed to have collectively gone into a terrified trance, but she looked more worried than anything else.

"What do you think?" He forced out, past gritted teeth. She nodded faintly, tilting her head a degree to the left.

"Touché." She replied, before lowering her voice, "Everyone's staring."

"Yeah, thanks, noticed." Draco muttered, easing his shoulders into a more relaxed position.

"I think they're worried you're going to hex them." She continued playfully, and that's when it clicked on what she was doing.

"You're trying to distract me." He pointed out, "Cheer me up."

"It worked for half a second." She noted, and he shook his head carefully.

"_Maybe _a quarter of one, Granger." He allowed, the name rolling off his tongue before he could think twice about switching to her first name. If it bothered her, she didn't showcase it..

"I'm sorry." She finally said, her voice quiet, so as not to project the declaration to everyone. Draco managed a nod. "I had no idea-"

"Don't." His hand shot up to cut her off. She snapped her mouth shut as he let out a small sigh, "Just… don't."

She nodded wordlessly, glancing at Mrs. Trifleton. She shot a glance at Draco before allowing the faintest grin to shimmer at the edge of her lips. She shot her hand into the air dramatically.

"Yes, Hermione?" Mrs. Trifleton asked, taken off guard at the gesture. "What is it, dear?"

"I've noticed that everyone seems to be atrociously off topic. I doubt the Headmistress would approve of such lapses in attention." She said, her face suddenly very serious, her eyes widened as if she wasn't subtly throwing a direct threat to the teacher. "Do you need some help regaining order of the class? Mr. Flitwick just passed through the hall, he can't be far, I will go fetch him."

Hermione stood, taking a couple of steps towards the door. Draco managed to raise a surprised, and heavily impressed, eyebrow when the teacher called after her, "No! No, dear, it's fine, I can manage on my own."

Hermione paused, looking at the door in a stunningly believable display of uncertainty before nodding and making her way back to her seat. Mrs. Trifleton nodded awkwardly at the class, coercing a smile onto her face, "Get back to work everyone, there's plenty of time left."

"You're welcome." Hermione whispered sharply when the students were forced to draw their attention away from the pair. "Now what happened?" Draco grimaced.

"I can't be entirely sure." He admitted, coughing uncomfortably, though his muscles had abandoned most of their tension without every eye on him. "I think I screamed." Hermione stared at him, her mouth forming an 'o'.

"I heard you." She said, inclining her head at him. She stared at him for a moment, "I don't think that was a traditional form of Occlumency." Hermione rubbed her head absently.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, noting her suddenly studious look. She yanked out a textbook, flipping through the pages fervently.

"You got me out through screaming." She said, her eyes rolling up and to the right to recall what happened, "_Before._" The word was a revelation. Her brown eyes locked on his again, "I was being forced out _before _the wall. You screamed and the wall followed."

"This is ridiculous." He muttered, "There's no way to get you out other than through Occlumency." Her finger shot up – to shush him or contradict him, he wasn't sure.

"I never said it wasn't Occlumency," Her eyes scanned the pages rapidly, "Just not a usual form of it. I feel like…" She trailed off for a moment, squinting her eyes as she processed something the book was saying, "I feel like I've read something about it before." She finished.

"Of course you have." He rolled his eyes, but she didn't notice, being too immersed in the caption of a diagram. "Now, if it was sometime in the last couple of days, we've narrowed it down to… Oh, I don't know, _half _the library."

She didn't even glance up when she said, "Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy." Oh, so she was back to last-names now? "I finished all the decent books in there in fifth year." His eyes bugged.

"The library is massive!" Then he thought of something, "What was that book from the other night, then?"

"As I said, all the _decent _books. You'd be surprised at some of the rubbish in there. Who cares about the detailed play-by-plays of every Quidditch match in the last decade?" She said in all seriousness.

"I do!" He said, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

"As for the book," She ignored him, "It's a muggle book. A marvelous one, actually. Anyways, I'll look and see if I can't find where I read that and then-"

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you take your own advice and get to work." Mrs. Trifleton tapped on the table in front of them lightly. Hermione started, her gaze shooting up to meet the professor's.

"I was just looking something up, you see, because Draco seems to have-"

"Your research was supposed to be completed last night, Miss Granger." Mrs. Trifleton frowned, "And I was told you were a model student."

Hermione coughed indignantly, and Draco wanted to laugh at how offended she looked.

"Professor," She said haughtily, "I read about Occlumency in Fourth Year, and researched it again in Fifth Year for my friend Harry. You may have heard of him? I know all about Occlumency, so I would appreciate it if you didn't insult me."

Mrs. Trifleton pursed her lips, staring at her and saying, "Back to work, both of you." Before walking off.

"Since when do you throw names around?" Draco asked, "Sounds like me."

"Since I found it inherently easier than debating." She replied, "She wouldn't hear me out anyhow. She was just mad I called her out earlier." Hermione glared in the direction of their professor and turned back to the textbook. "As I was saying-"

"I'll see you in the library after dinner." Draco continued, and she stared at him. He just smirked, "You're too predictable, Granger."

Hermione took a seat at the Great Hall, a couple of books with her already, and began scooping food onto her plate. Ginny and Lavender stared, surprised, and Hermione absently shoveled the food into her mouth whilst trying to unstick the pages of the top book in her stack.

"Merlin's beard, 'Mione, I haven't seen you like this since helping Harry with the Triwizard Tournament!" Ginny commented.

"Wait," Lav raised an eyebrow, noticing one of the headings, "Are you looking up Occlumency?"

Hermione nodded vaguely, her spoon finding its way to her mouth after a bit of blind searching. She saw Ginny shoot Lavender a quizzical gaze in her peripheral vision.

"What exactly happened today?" Lavender asked.

"What do you mean?" Ginny hastily replied.

"As you know, we were working on Occlumency," Lavender explained, her hands gesturing wildly, "Mione paired up with Draco, and a little while later Draco starts speaking, this sort of chant, over and over."

"What was he saying?" Ginny's voice conveyed that she clearly thought he'd been cursing Hermione or something of the like.

"Get out of my head, Granger." Lavender grinned conspiratorially, "And then, a few minutes later, he screams at the top of his lungs. Seemed right angry."

"Is that what happened?" Hermione finally spoke up, meeting Lavender's gaze. "Draco wasn't certain."

"Why did you pair up with Malfoy?" Ginny asked, shocked.

"No one else seemed up to the task." Hermione quipped, still looking at Lavender. "Did you notice anything odd? Besides the chanting and the scream?"

"What's going on, Mione?" Lav asked, her eyes wide.

"What did you see in his mind?" Ginny asked, her eyes eager.

"Never mind that, this is important!" Hermione cried in a slight whisper, not wishing to draw attention. She glanced around, but thankfully no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

"Something happened and it's vital that I find out what." Hermione declared, but, upon seeing their expression, added, "If you must know, he got me out of his mind in a very abnormal way. I want to find out what it was."

"What did you see in his mind?" Ginny repeated, eyes narrower now.

"Ginny, I'm not going to publicly announce what I saw in his head!" She sighed, exasperated, "That's like a violation of the unspoken code of breaking into someone's head."

"I thought the code was that you _did _share what you saw, otherwise what's the point?" Ginny retorted.

"This was for educational purposes." Hermione said, returning to her book, "Entirely different scenario."

"He tried to kill you." Lavender noted.

"He tried to kill _Harry_, not me." She corrected, feeling the sudden need to stand up for him, "He's not Voldemort and its time you stop acting as if he might as well be!"

"Bloody hell," Ginny mused, "What did that boy show you to make you go all Gryffindor on us?"

Hermione was quiet for a long moment before saying, articulate, "I just think you all are judging him far too harshly."

"His entire family tried to kill us all." Lavender commented, and Hermione just stared at her evenly.

"His mother saved Harry's life, and that saved the rest of us."

"That excuses Draco's actions?" Ginny asked.

"Of course not." Hermione sniffed, "But if it weren't for Draco, she never would have declared Harry dead."

Ginny was quiet after that, thoughtful.

"What do you mean?" Lavender asked.

"She cared more for Draco than for Voldemort." Ginny replied quietly. "She chose family over victory."

"Doesn't make me like Malfoy." Lavender decided.

"I'm not saying you should." Hermione agreed, "I'm just saying that perhaps treating him so negatively isn't such a good idea. Indirectly, he's the reason we're all here."

"Reason or not, that doesn't mean I want him staring at me from across the room." Ginny muttered, nodding in the direction behind Hermione.

Hermione turned around abruptly, and found that, separated by a good two meters from the nearest Slytherins, Draco's eyes were watching the three of them intently.

"Somehow, I doubt he's all that intrigued by you, Ginny." Lav giggled, "Not only do you publicly hate him, but you're dating his nemesis who also publicly hates him."

"At this point, everyone publicly hates him." Ginny noted, "Well," She amended, "Except Hermione, evidently."

"Ah, so that's who he's staring at." Lav giggled again, poking Hermione, who quirked an eyebrow at the silver-haired boy, who just smirked at snapped his gaze to where Pansy, Blaise, and Theo sat.

"It all sounds horribly like a romance story." Ginny commented, "The lonely, disliked boy who the nice, popular girl goes out of her way to talk to and then he develops a fancy for her, and, as all romance stories go, she'd fall for him back." She raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Oh, shut up. I've got a boyfriend!" Hermione turned back to the table, "I don't even like Draco, I just think-"

"We know." Ginny and Lavender said in unison, and the three of them broke out into a laughter that had Hermione's heart throbbing with a vacancy. She missed her best friends.

After dinner, Hermione excused herself to her dorm, assuring herself that she could write a quick letter to the boys before heading to the library. Pulling out some parchment, her mind raced almost too fast for her quill to follow. She missed those two knuckleheads more than she cared to admit.

_Harry and Ron,_

_How are things? I'm sorry I haven't written sooner; I wanted to the first night but thought better of it. I have double potions with the Slytherins again. Professor Slughorn had us test Veritaserum in our first class – and asked me, under its power, how my summer was. I think you can both imagine how the answer to that turned out._

_I share a dorm with Ginny and Lav, but the class is much smaller than it has been in previous years, so it is just the three of us, rather than five. Oh! Neville finally plucked up enough courage to ask Luna out! They're going for butterbeer on our first Hogsmeade outing next weekend!_

_I miss you both terribly, as much as my ego pains to admit the fact. Ginny and Lavender are great friends, but they're not the two guys with which I've spent the last seven years of my life barely scraping by with said life._

_Our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher happens to be Umbridge's sister, who goes by the name Trifleton. She's right nicer than her sister, but I reckon I've managed to get on her bad side, but I'll get to that later._

_I haven't been down to see Hagrid yet, although I heard some Third Years going on about hippogriffs, so I think he's getting along just fine. I haven't seen Professor McGonagall, either, which is regretful. I suppose I'll have to make a special trip to visit her one of these days._

_Draco came back this year, rather reluctantly, according to Veritaserum. I'm paired up with him in Defense against the Dark Arts, for Occlumency (It isn't nearly as hard as you suggested, Harry). I must admit that he saw some memories that I wish he hadn't, but I got plenty in return. His brain isn't at all what you'd expect! The emotionless Draco is purely an act, I assure you. He feels very passionately, according to his memories._

_It was strange, though. He didn't block me from his mind through the usual, textbook, Occlumency magic. I am going to the library later to see what I can dig up – as he seemed to have yelled and forced me out. It sounds dreadfully silly now that I am writing it all down, but it is all very complex to explain._

_Everyone was staring at us when I was blocked from his mind, and Draco looked about ready to implode on himself. I may have, sort of, dropped a slight threat towards Professor Trifleton to get her to force the class to give us some privacy (as I mentioned, I think I am not on her bad side. I had to resort to name-dropping! I had to use you, Harry, to get her off my case!)._

_Other than that, not much has happened here. I hope you both can make a trip up to Hogsmeade one of these days for a visit. I trust the jobs are going well? How is the family? Well, I've got to send this now, otherwise I'm afraid I won't have much time in the library._

_Much love,_

_Hermione Granger._

Hermione felt a bounce in her step as she jostled to the Owlery. Upon reaching it, she attached the letter, and sent the owl off. Smiling peacefully, she stared after it for a moment, her eyes resting on the horizon.

Pivoting, she peeled her eyes away, and headed to meet Draco in the library.

**A/N: Thank you again for reading (I say thank you a lot, don't I? Well, I mean it!) Please, please review! I'd love to know your honest thoughts (positive and negative)! I'll try to get the next chapter up very soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Do any of you have any good Dramione fanfic recommendations? I'm looking for some new ones to read! I really like Forgettable Vows, How to be Dead, and Graveyard Valentine, if y'all want some good ones to read.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All credit to JK Rowling.**

Hermione stopped by her dorm to grab her iPod before making her way down to the library. She'd gathered the books she'd been inspecting at dinner, and held them tumultuously while trying to disentangle her left headphone from her right headphone.

Fumbling through the library doors, she stumbled vaguely in the direction of the back corner. She tossed a glance upwards, her eyes spotting Draco just where she'd expected. He looked bored, his hair spiking up as if he'd run his hands through it, with his eyes inspecting one of the very Quidditch books she'd insulted earlier.

Rolling her eyes, she yanked again at her headphones, letting out a frustrated grunt when they refused to cooperate. All of this had distracted her, and she failed to notice the top book on her stack was balancing precariously on the edge.

It slipped, colliding directly with her left foot and causing her to lose what little balance she possessed. Books went flying as she went falling. Hermione recognized a yelp emitting rather embarrassingly from her mouth just moments before slamming into the ground.

Lying motionless for a moment, she felt heat prickle at her cheeks when several sets of footsteps approached. She closed her eyes with humiliation, steeling herself before rolling onto her back and propping herself up with one arm.

The librarian was staring down at her, with some curious looking First Years. Draco stood a few meters away, a smirk threatening to spread onto his face. She noticed with some satisfaction that he seemed to have ditched the Quiddith play-by-plays.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" The librarian asked, offering her hand. Hermione just nodded, fumbling to gather the splayed books around her.

"Yes, I was just distracted." She said, flushing deeper as she clambered to her feet. The First-Years slipped away, sensing that nothing interesting was happening. The librarian nodded faintly, looking unconvinced. "I'm fine. I've endured much worse than slipping on a book."

At this, the librarian smiled sweetly, handing her one of the dropped books and returning to her desk. Draco allowed the smirk to surface now, taking a step forward. He twisted his wand absently in his hand.

"Graceful, Granger." He commented.

"Oh, shut it." She rolled her eyes, shoving some of the books in his direction. Stunned, he didn't resist, taking them so as not to let them fall again. She examined her headphones, and, to her dismay, they seemed to be more tangled than ever.

"What are those?" Draco's voice was so confused that Hermione barked out a laugh, savoring the wide-eyed glassiness in his face.

"Headphones." She waved them in front of his face, turning and stalking to the couch, "For my iPod."

"What the bloody hell is an iPod?" He asked, pausing a moment before following.

"One of the muggle world's most brilliant innovations." She quipped, pulling the device out from its position in her robes.

"It's a black box." He noted, and she clicked the home button, the screen lighting up. He flinched, but then stared, intrigued. "Why isn't the picture moving?" He was squinting at her lock screen – a still shot of her, Harry, and Ron from one of their few outings during the summer. Harry was laughing, oblivious to Ron and Hermione, who had made the last-second decision to kiss.

She smiled fondly at the memory, and Draco stared onward, mystified.

"Muggle pictures don't move."She explained, typing in her passcode swiftly and pulling up her music playlists. She nodded at the device, "It plays music."

"Anything good?" He asked.

"I've got Elvis." She tilted her head to the side, "And Johnny Cash."

He stared blankly. She rolled her eyes, laughing faintly as they reached the couch. Hermione piled the books on the end table before sidling onto the couch next to Draco. There was a good distance between them, each on the opposite end of it.

"You don't know _Elvis Presley?_" Hermione knew that the wizarding world strayed far from anything to do with muggles but she thought they'd at least know _Elvis!_ Draco just shook his head, and Hermione gasped, "You uncultured child!"

"I reckon this Elvis girl isn't all that great, if she's a muggle." He commented, reaching to grab one of the books. Hermione swatted his hand away, appalled.

"First of all, Malfoy," She said as if she were teaching a class, "Elvis Presley is a male. Second of all, he is the King of Rock and Roll!" Draco just raised an eyebrow, ignoring her swat and taking one of the books anyways.

"Let's hear it, then." He said casually opening the cover of _All Things Occlumency_. Hermione sniffed, holding her head faintly higher than normal, and scrolled through her artists until she reached the E's.

Tapping her finger on the screen, she noticed Draco had once again transfixed on the iPod. She let out a huff of laughter, "It is programmed to respond to touch. Now," she added, clicking on a song but pausing it before it could begin playing, "Quiet. This is an important moment, and I must say that it is dreadful you're only just experiencing it now." She paused for dramatic effect. Draco rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy, I introduce you to The King."

And she clicked on one of her favorite songs: _Such A Night_.

The upbeat tune roared through her headphones, and she unplugged them in order to improve the quality. Draco was caught off guard at the sudden break of the silence. Hermione made certain to keep the music quiet enough so as not to bother anyone else.

_"__The moon was bright, oh how bright it was, it really was such a night…_" She watched eagerly, bobbing slightly to the music, and waiting for Draco's reaction. He tilted his head, listening. After a moment, he subconsciously dipped his head to the beat, and, upon realizing what he was doing, he froze, pink coating his pale cheeks in a splatter of color.

"It's brilliant, isn't it?" She prodded, and he just shrugged.

"Not bad for a muggle." He replied, and she rolled her eyes, shutting off the tune and pulling a book into her own lap. She'd brought the headphones under the assumption that Draco would get bored eventually and leave her alone, and she could listen to music then.

"So," She paused, "Are we going to talk about it?"

"About what?" He said, "The scream? I've asked around. I did scream."

"No, I meant," She faltered, noticing how he suddenly tensed. When she spoke again, her voice was considerably softer, "The memories."

"I'd rather we didn't, Granger." He said it casually enough.

"We're going to have to sooner or later." She pointed out, "I've already been hounded about it." His gaze snapped up to meet hers and she hastened to add, "I didn't tell them anything. The thing is, we have to do it again tomorrow." He grimaced.

Hermione sighed. She was going to have to go first, otherwise he'd never open up. Even then, she wasn't entirely certain that he would.

"The first memory you saw," She started, and he pretended not to listen, but she saw his eyes stop moving along the page, and that urged her on to continue, "That was at the Quidditch World Cup. It was the night I first saw the Dark Mark, and how Death Eaters treated muggles."

Draco was silent for a long moment. She stared at him, frowning. She'd just decided that he wasn't going to reply when his voice pierced the quiet around them.

"You saw Bellatrix cursing you." He said, and Hermione nodded. "That was the first time I'd seen the Cruciatus curse."

She didn't know what to say.

"Other than the demonstration in class." He clarified, and then hesitated. "About that-"

"You don't have to feel obligated to apologize." She informed him hastily, sensing that he was about to.

"I should have said something." He said quietly, "Anything."

"I don't blame you." She assured him, "I didn't even know you were watching."

"I was though," He said, his voice even softer, "And I do."

It took her a moment to decipher his meaning and when she did, a jolt of surprise rocked through her.

"Draco-"

"I had known you for seven years. Seven years." He said, "And I didn't even speak up in your defense."

"Why would you have?" She remarked, "You hate me."

At this he stared openly at her. Hermione straightened her shoulders, fighting the overwhelming urge to shrink under his astonished gaze.

"I don't hate you, Granger."

"You could've fooled me." She said, "In fact, you have."

"I don't hate you. Now," he amended, "I don't particularly like you, but there's a fine line between that and hatred."

"Then why do you insult me all the time?"

"I don't know how to do anything else." He admitted, "I thought you knew that."

"I knew you faked some things." She allowed, "But why insult someone if you don't mean it?"

"Why sympathize with someone who openly slanders you?" He fired back, and she froze.

"That's entirely different, Malfoy."

"No, it's not." He said, "You did it because it's in _your _nature. It's the same for me."

"Insulting is in your nature?" She echoed, and he nodded. "You can always change."

"You say that like it's easy." He commented.

"I'm not saying that at all." She argued, "But if you wanted to, you could."

"Right, because if I suddenly started being all dandelions and butterflies everyone would buy that." Draco said sardonically, gesturing with his hands.

"They'd warm up to the idea."

"I'd get myself killed." He retorted. When she widened her eyes fractionally, he added, "They hate me. The whole lot of them. If I changed, they'd take advantage of that. I'm responsible for so many deaths, Granger."

"Maybe they'd forgive you." She said softly, "If you were open with them."

"Right, like that'd happen."

"It did for Professor Snape." Hermione felt uncomfortable talking about this. It was known that Snape had been on their side after all, but not what had been behind that. Draco stared.

"Harry, Ron, and I understood why he did what he did." She said, "It didn't excuse it, any of it, but we forgave him for it." She sighed when he dropped his gaze, "Merlin's beard, Draco, listen to me! If you would just get it through your thick skull that maybe not everyone bloody wants you dead, then maybe you wouldn't have to lie about not being able to sleep!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" He said fiercely. Hermione couldn't keep the smug grin off her face.

"Blaise doesn't have a girlfriend." She said matter-of-factly. "If you'd just let _somebody _in-"

"I let you inside my head, Granger!" He exclaimed, then added, quieter, "Bloody hell, how much more could you expect?"

"Honesty." There was no hesitation. He stared at her, and she made certain to keep her eyes locked on his when she said, "You feel more vividly than anyone I've ever met. You don't have to bear all of that by yourself, if you'd talk about it-"

"No bloody chance." He muttered, "I am not letting you, or anyone for that matter, play therapist to me. I don't need help."

"You hate it, Draco." There was no wavering in her tone, "You hate it that everyone hates you. You hate it that you were on Voldemort's side. You hate it, all of it. Just admit it."

He stood up.

"Fine, Granger, if what you want is a bloody confession, then here it is." He leveled with her, his face going blank, "I hate that I can't change. I hate, even more, the fact that I probably could if I tried. I hate that I stood by and watched people I know die. I hate that my family was largely the reason they did. I hate that no one has tried to kill me. But what I hate most, Granger, is how much I hate that I hate." He paused, swallowing deeply, "I might as well accept what I am rather than run from it."

Hermione was silent, her mind reeling as she replayed every word in the conversation. When at last she'd fully processed it, she glared at him, setting the book beside her and standing up.

"Draco Malfoy, that might just be the _stupidest _reasoning I have ever heard in my entire life." She laughed derisively, "And that's really saying something, considering that I've been friends with Harry and Ron for seven years." She took a step closer to him, her eyes narrowed, "I now see why you're Slytherin. Not because you're cunning or conniving or ruthless. No, it's because you are too dense to see that bravery is more than some praised attribute. It's a choice. If you would stop running from your problems, and face them for once, you might be surprised at what happens."

Draco turned around and stormed out of the library.

It was late when Hermione finally retired from the library. She hugged several of the books to her chest as she shouldered through the door, her mood beyond foul. It was dark – probably later than she should be out and about, so she made a mental note to pay careful attention to her surroundings.

She turned down a long corridor just outside the library when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Freezing, she stared at a particularly dark shadow, wondering if her eyes were tricking her. She thought she saw a tuft off paleness inside the swaths of darkness.

She stifled a shriek when Draco stepped out of the corner. He looked miserable, his hair going in every direction and perspiration lining his brow as if he'd washed his face rather than sweat. And his eyes were pure, for once. Bright and clear and certain and very, very afraid.

"I lied." He said, and she raised an eyebrow, fury simmering within her. "About disliking you."

She barely had time to process this before he plucked her wand from her robes, holding it to his forehead encouragingly. Hermione stared, her hand hesitantly moving to curl around the handle. She shot him a quizzical gaze but he just allowed his head to dip into a curt nod.

"_Legilimens._" Her voice was shaky, unsettled.

Penetrating his mind was easy this time – as if he was drawing her in rather than keeping her out, which, she supposed, he was.

Hermione was standing, recognizing the memory from earlier that day. It was the Yule Ball again. Her eyes tried to flick about the room, but Draco's gaze was caught on the top of the stairs, where the corner of a blue dress flickered into view.

Viktor Krum stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. Hermione felt dread well up in her, somehow knowing what was about to come.

Sure enough, Hermione watched as she stepped out from around the corner. Draco's breath, and consequently her's, caught in his throat, and a tingling sensation seized his chest cavity.

Hermione saw herself as Draco did. Her eyes were sparkling, like freshly melted chocolate, and her mouth was twitching into a grin. Her hair twisted onto her head, only a few strands falling over one of her shoulders. She saw her skin as he saw it, her movement as he saw it. He didn't delude himself into thinking she was graceful, for that Hermione was thankful.

He saw her clunkiness, and he saw the imperfections that marred her skin. What surprised her though, was that none of it seemed to matter. If anything, he saw those as beautiful. She jolted, wondering where that word had come from. She paused, feeling the word rise to her tongue again – it was Draco's word, not her's. His mouth formed it, but the whisper died unspoken on his lips.

She descended the stairs, and he watched as if she were a Veela, as if he couldn't take his eyes from her even if he tried. And she sensed that he did try, quite determinedly, actually.

And then she was gently pushed out by a wall that rose to greet her, forcing her from his mind. If she'd been in any state less than innately, utterly astonished, she would've been able to hold her ground. As it was, the shock was too much, challenging everything Draco had said or done for years as she found herself staring once again into the silver of his eyes.

She opened her mouth, but couldn't speak. Draco's intense gaze made her throat close upon itself, and she, for once, was at a complete loss for words. Draco finally dropped his gaze, flushing a deep scarlet, and turning away in what Hermione assumed was a gesture to hide the blush.

When at last she could form words, all she could manage was, "I never knew."

He met her eyes once again, looking so pale in the lighting that she might have otherwise mistaken him for a ghost. His voice was barely audible when he replied. "I know."

And then he was gone, whisked away into the shadows, leaving her standing there, confused and dazed.

**A/N: Sooooo… how'd you like this chapter? ;) I realized that it is entirely from Hermione's point of view, but it seemed to fit better that way. Anyways, please tell me what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ah, here I am again, writing the next chapter! I'm so glad y'all seem to be liking it so far, as it is the first fanfic I've ever written! (That, and the fact that I want to eventually become an author so I get really giddy when people actually like my writing).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this! All rights to JK Rowling, who is by far the best author of our generation. And probably the majority of generations in general. **

Draco couldn't sleep, but, for once, that had nothing to do with the nightmares. His heart was hammering against his ribcage at such a constant barrage that he was certain his bones would eventually give way to the wild muscle.

His mind raged rampant, half-formed thoughts blending with run-on ones and creating a cacophony in his head that made him want to claw his brain out. Well, maybe that was a bit drastic, but he was getting there.

What the _bloody hell_ had he just done? It was like her words had spiked a part of his mind with drugs, and he _bloody_ let her see that he bloody _cared_ for her and he could be bloody brave like _Ron bloody Weasley_.

He paused, deciding that he really needed sleep.

Unfortunately, given the circumstances, that wasn't going to happen. His mind kept her reaction playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Even the shadows hadn't been able to dim the glint in her eyes that accompanied learning something.

The surprise had been right alongside it. He'd known she'd be shocked, but he thought that, what with her intelligence, she'd have had some sort of vague idea regarding how he felt towards her.

Then again, Draco didn't even understand it.

She was infuriating and a know-it-all. She sympathized too much and defended people too often. Hermione Granger was everything he'd grown up to hate, everything he'd been taught was inferior and repulsive. She was a _mudblood_, and she was a Gryffindor, and she was clunky and awkward with untamed hair and a dozen books hovering around her.

And, Merlin's beard, Draco fancied her.

He couldn't even deny it anymore – he'd gone through that. The stages of hatred and strained hatred and false hatred until he'd finally admitted it to himself.

"Draco, you alright?" It was Blaise. He had a lopsided smirk on his face, and Draco realized he'd been staring blankly at the far wall.

"Yeah, mate, I'm fine." He waved dismissively, and Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Finally heard me, eh?" His smirk grew at Draco's confusion, "I've been asking that for five minutes now." Blaise leaned against one of Draco's bedposts. "Who is she?"

"Huh?" Draco jolted faintly, donning an emotionless mask as quickly as possible.

"You're staring at the far wall in a daze, doesn't take long to put two-and-two together." Blaise repeated, "Who is she?"

"No one." Draco said, narrowing his eyes slightly at his friend, "There's no one."

"I don't believe you."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Draco countered, glowering. That shut Blaise up. Draco reached forward, yanking on the curtains to hide him from the room.

Hermione couldn't focus. She'd given up on her homework after nearly an hour of staring at her parchment, willing herself to write something. She knew plenty on the topic, but everything seemed to have fled her mind to make room for what had happened.

Essentially, she was panicking.

Never, and she honestly meant that, had she known in the slightest what Draco had felt. Never had she expected it. In fact, she wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't experienced that memory.

He'd shown it to her, and that was still something she couldn't grasp. He had to know she didn't reciprocate… right? She'd been very open about her disdain for him, but, then again, so had he.

Now she was pacing across the Gryffindor common room, gaining several curious looks from those around her. Even Neville noticed her odd behavior, and was sending questioning glances around the room.

"Mione?" Ginny finally asked, exasperated when Hermione passed in front of her and blocked the light for the hundredth time. Hermione came to a halt, her cheeks flushing slightly, scrambling to come up with something to tell her. "What the _bloody hell _is wrong with you tonight?"

"It's nothing. Nothing at all." She answered, too quickly. Cursing herself inwardly, she added, "I can't focus."

"Someone document the date!" A Sixth Year exclaimed, "Hermione Granger can't focus, this should go down in history!"

She shot a dark glare in his direction, shutting him up immediately. Ginny just stared hard at Hermione, analyzing her expression. Finally, she stood, discarding the homework she'd been working on, and dragged Hermione to their dorm.

"What happened?" She had lost her anger, and her tone was full of sincerity. She sat on her bed, crossing her arms to show Hermione that she wasn't getting out of this without explaining.

"It's just… it's incredibly bizarre." Hermione said, resuming her pacing. Ginny allowed her to pace a couple of times before dropping the next bomb on her.

"It's Draco, isn't it?" Hermione strongly sensed that this wasn't actually a question. She paused, and allowed her head to dip into a curt nod.

"One of his memories." Hermione affirmed, proud that she'd been honest while skirting the full explanation. Ginny nodded slowly, her gaze incriminating.

"You pity him."

"In some ways, yes." Hermione admitted, "But that doesn't excuse it. _Any of it_." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince. "I mean, it's just that there's so much more to him than what he puts on. He's not at all what you'd expect." She hesitated before adding, "He's dreadfully…" She trailed off searching for the right word, "Sad."

"Sad?" Ginny echoed, arching a brow.

"Well, not _sad _sad, but… definitely sad." Hermione shook her head in an attempt to un-muddle her thoughts. "It's hard to explain without giving way information that I really shouldn't."

"Mione," Ginny said softly, "I think you might want to see good in Draco and therefore you are."

"It's not like that." Hermione objected, "It's truly not. Not at all. It's… Ginny, I've been so wrong. I don't know what true about him and what's not and it's driving me insane." Ginny looked mildly distressed.

"Hermione," She said slowly, "What – _exactly_ – happened?" Hermione didn't answer, which only appeared to strengthen Ginny's suspicions."Mione, you know not answering just makes me jump to the worst conclusion."

Hermione just stared at her feet, unsure that anything could be worse than the truth.

"Hermione!" Ginny sighed, leaning back on her elbows, looking as if she was straining to keep her voice level.

"He told me that he…" Hermione faltered, the sudden idea of saying it aloud stressing her out. It would make it all too real. "Well, he didn't so much _tell _me as-"

"Get to the point, Mione!"

"Hesortakindareallyfanciesme." The words tumbled out of her mouth, tripping over themselves in a way that was entirely unlike her, but the whole situation was throwing her off.

"What?" Ginny's face was etched with confusion. Hermione took a deep breath before trying again, her words forcibly slowed down.

"He fancies me." She said simply, albeit flustered. Ginny blinked, sitting upright.

"Say that again." Ginny gasped, her face incredulous.

"He does. Quite a lot, it would seem." She said, finally resigning herself to sit on her bed. When she did, it felt as if all the nervous energy had exploded and let her in a rush, leaving her just ultimately very tired.

"And you believe him?" Ginny inquired, suddenly uneasy, "He could be playing you. I wouldn't put it past him."

"He didn't tell me." Hermione reiterated, "I wouldn't have believed him if had been that simple."

Ginny jolted, her eyes going round as she said, "Mione, tell me he didn't kiss you!" Hermione started, and then let out a derisive laugh.

"No!" She said, "He showed me a memory."

"_Oh_, oh thank Merlin!" Ginny sighed, but then it seemed to process and she widened her eyes, looking at Hermione. "He really does, then?"

Hermione nodded.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, and Hermione stood, the energy bubbling in her again, so she began pacing.

"I've no idea." She declared, a hand running haphazardly through her hair. "What do I do, Ginny?"

"Beats me!" Ginny said, throwing her hands up in surrender. "I mean, I don't think you _have _to do anything."

"I'm stuck as his partner for the rest of the week!" Hermione collapsed onto the bed once again, burying her face in her hands, distraught. "I can't just pretend like it never happened! You should have seen him – right terrified he was!"

"As well as he should be, dropping something like that on you after years of insulting you." Ginny commented, which didn't help Hermione at all. Then she pursed her lips, saying, "You should tell Ron."

"That's a dreadful idea!" Hermione exclaimed, her back tensing. "He hates Draco already, I can't very well make him _jealous _of Draco, too!"

"He has no reason to be jealous." Ginny waved dismissively, before quirking her brows, "Has he?"

"Hasn't stopped him before." Hermione pointed out, "And I think it would be nice if…" she faltered again, before continuing, "If they could learn to get along."

"Mione!"

"Draco needs friends, and right now I'm the closest thing he's got, I reckon." Hermione argued. Ginny just shook her head faintly.

"I can't change your mind once you've set it upon something, and I see now that you have." She said, "Just be careful, Mione. He's not a good person."

"I know." Hermione said, although some part of her begged to differ. She told that part to shut up.

Hermione found herself lingering outside of the potions room the next day, stalling Lavender by pausing to ask her questions about her new boyfriend. It worked for a bit, but Lavender was clearly itching to go inside or risk losing Gryffindor points on account of being late.

Hermione didn't have that worry. She'd gladly have lost a hundred points if it meant she didn't have to face Malfoy. She still hadn't figured out how she was going to handle the situation, and Ginny hadn't helped much in that respect.

"You go on ahead, Lav." Hermione told her friend, who nodded questioningly, and made her way inside. Hermione still had a couple of minutes, and she leaned against the wall, focusing on her breathing in an attempt to clear her mind.

"Hello, Hermione." An airy voice said, and Hermione's eyes shot open to see Luna. It struck her then that she hadn't had much of a chance to talk to the eccentric blonde since school began.

"Hey, Luna." She replied, hoping her voice didn't sound too shaky.

"Is something bothering you?" She asked, "Nargles, perhaps? I've got just the thing to fix that, if you want."

"No, Luna, I'm fine." Hermione forced a tight smile. Lune just tilted her head, clutching her magazine to her chest.

"No, you're not." She said, "Something is definitely off." Hermione sighed, casting a glance in the potions classroom. Her heart stammered when she caught a glance of platinum hair, and she reverted her gaze to Luna.

"I'm just thinking, is all." Hermione said, knowing it wasn't a total lie. She frowned, "You'd better get going, though. You don't want to be late."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it." Luna smiled innocently, "I've already been to see Professor Flitwick." She held up the book in her hands, "I'm delivering this back to the librarian for him."

"Oh." Was all Hermione said in response. Luna blinked slowly at her, still trying to read what was wrong.

"I wonder why it is that you're not in class yet?" Luna asked, and Hermione found it odd that the statement managed to phrase a question.

"I'm…getting some air." She lied. Luna glanced around.

"In the dungeons?" Hermione flushed.

"Yes." It fell flat, unbelievable. Luna raised an eyebrow slightly, in thought.

"I reckon you don't want Professor Slughorn to be angry with you." Luna commented, "You should go inside now, then. I'll talk to you at lunch."

Hermione just nodded, watching as Luna resumed her aimless strolling. Taking a deep breath and adjusting the bag on her shoulder, Hermione steeled herself and took quick strides into the potions room.

Just in time, she took her seat at the exact moment Professor Slughorn reached the front of the room. Hermione stared intensely ahead, ignoring the white-blonde head who seemed to be all too noticeable in the dark room.

"Good day, children!" Slughorn said genially, "Today we will continue testing the effects of various potions, as we have for the last couple of days." Hermione groaned inwardly. At least the day before hadn't been so bad – a simple potion to awaken the senses. "Today we will be studying Amortentia."

Hermione stifled a gasp, and jolted in her seat. Her professor paid no attention, and continued, "You will be doing a project on the potion later on in the term, but today we will just be testing the individual effects it has on each of you."

Hermione's hands curled into fists, and she set her jaw. "I have conjured up a spell that will randomly choose students in the class, and it is in that order that we will go."

Hermione watched intently as a wisp of green jetted from his wand, forming letters. When the first letter completed and 'L', she exhaled in relief. She, of course, had no problem going up there, as she'd shared what she smelled during Sixth Year.

What she wasn't ready for, however, was Draco.

Lavender squeaked when her name fully formed from the wand, and tentatively rose from her seat. Hermione offered her a reassuring smile, which Lav seemed to ignore. She walked to the steaming cauldron in the front of the room, and Professor Slughorn gestured at it. She moved forward, leaning to fully inhale the fumes.

"I smell…" She trailed off, sniffing again and allowing a small sigh to emit from her mouth, "Shaving cream, and butterbeer, and…" She faltered subtly, "And freshly cleaned robes." Someone let out a snicker, and Lavender hurried back to her seat, flushing a deep scarlet as she did so. Hermione leaned towards her.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with any of those scents, Lav." She assured her friend, who just nodded faintly. Several more students were called up, each one causing Hermione to feel both relieved and apprehensive as Draco's turn drew near. Her heart snagged when the mist formed the curves of his name, and she averted her eyes, dropping them to her desk as she heard the familiar footsteps ring through the quiet classroom as Draco walked to the cauldron.

There was a masked hesitation, one she only noticed because she was listening all too intently rather than watching. It was a simple shaky breath before his voice, low and heavy, pierced the room.

"I smell a… campfire," He began, and Hermione's eyes darted up before she could stop them. His head was bent over the cauldron, so she couldn't see his face, but she could see clearly the tension in his shoulders and back. She hadn't even realized he'd known what a real campfire smelled like. She didn't have much time to ponder it because he continued, "And new… books," Draco flinched almost imperceptibly before adding, "And roses." He took half a step back, but said, quietly, "And the forest after it rains."

She stared at him, watching as he hastened back to his seat. It shouldn't have surprised her, as she had been expecting one of the scents to relate to her. All four, however, had thrown her off a bit. Okay, a lot. The fire wasn't surprising, as she spent a lot of her time next to the fire in the common room, which she realized did in fact smell eerily like a campfire, and the books were a giveaway. The roses were from the perfume Ron had given her. But the forest after it rained shocked her the most. Ron had always told her that her hair smelled like that, but she'd never believed him, much less thought that the scent could be noticeable, or attractive, for that matter.

A couple more students were drawn to the front, smelling anything from wood chips to actual chips, and then a still-dazed Hermione saw the letters of her name formed. As they did so, she realized that a seed of nervousness had indeed bloomed within her.

Frowning, she stood, unsure of why she suddenly wished she didn't have to go through with this. She made her way to the front, aware of everyone's gazes on her. Upon reaching the cauldron, she yearned to hold her breath, to not go through with this again.

But Professor Slughorn just nodded at the potion and she took a tiny step forward, tilting her head so the fumes just tainted her nostrils.

Several scents exploded into her sensory system at once, all of them releasing her pent-up anxiety. She smiled faintly, saying, "I smell freshly mowed grass, and fresh parchment," She grinned wider as the scent of Ron's toothpaste came to the forefront of her mind, "And spearmint toothpaste," She prepared to take a step back, but then her mind muddled, and a new scent arrived, driving her into confusion and horror. "And," She faltered, recognizing the scent immediately. Hermione blinked, her eyes wide, but Professor Slughorn just looked at her expectantly. She could lie, she figured, but what good would that do? It's not as if the scent means anything, she reasoned, it's a perfectly logical scent for someone to enjoy. Hermione shifted, her breath catching ever so slightly as she said, "Apples."

**A/N: So, how did y'all like it? Sorry it took a bit longer to update, but I don't want the chapters to be hasty or less than wonderful. Thank you for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank y'all so much for reading! And your reviews absolutely make my day (No joke, the last review gave me a ear-to-ear grin practically). Anyways, without further ado: The Disclaimer (Oh, and there's a chapter afterwards too).**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, all rights to JK Rowling.**

Draco stared. It was all he could do at the current moment. Hermione stood at the cauldron, looking as if she'd been slapped. A bright red tinged her cheeks and she locked her wide eyes on her feet.

After a moment, she seemed to regain the memory that everyone was staring at her, and scrambled hastily to her seat.

Draco watched her the entire way.

He blinked, her voice ringing in his ears as the word – a single word – replayed in his head. Over and over and over again. He could feel his mouth hanging faintly agape, and he felt his heart miss a beat whenever the word registered in his mind again.

Which, given the constant repeating nature of it, was quite a lot. Actually, taking into account all the beats his cardiovascular system had missed, it seemed wondrous that he hadn't passed out or something. He supposed his hyperactive breathing might be helping on that account.

Hermione was studiously avoiding his gaze, that much was clear. Any time her eyes roamed even in the proximity of where he sat, he noticed that she would regain the faded blush in her cheeks and snap her eyes back to her desk.

He smirked wider every single time. Other students were called up, and no one else seemed to notice the importance of what she'd just said. He did, though. Unfortunately, Theo seemed to take notice as well, and elbowed him in the ribs.

Draco's eyes darted from Hermione and landed on Theo, a sneer flashing on his face. Theo just scowled back, muttering, "You're gawking like a right idiot."

"I was thinking." Draco muttered, and Theo just rolled his eyes.

"Sure. Just," he added, "Keep in mind I know what that meant." Ah, so not everyone had missed the vital detail of Granger's revelation.

"It's not important." Draco replied under his breath, "It just caught me off guard, though I can't say I'm surprised. Don't girls always go for what they can't have?"

"Sometimes." Theo allowed, pausing for a moment before adding, "Books, huh? And, by the way, since when do you like campfires? Last I checked, camping was one of your least favorite things."

"Shut up." Draco just replied, although he felt heat prick at his cheeks. He grit his teeth, "I can't help what the bloody potion smells like." Theo just allowed the corner of his mouth to upturn in a slight sneer.

"What would your father say?" He said innocently, and Draco felt anger bubble within him. He clenched his fists.

"My father will _not _hear about this." Draco, realizing he'd as well as admitted it, cursed himself inwardly. Theo's sneer slid higher on his cheek.

"Ironic, I recall you using that exact opposite phrase many times over the course of, I don't know, the last seven years." He quipped, tapping his chin in mock thinking, "A threat, usually. What if I was to, oh, I don't know, use it the same way?"

Draco's anger flared again, and it took all he had not to take out his wand. He clenched his jaw, and noticed Theo grin at the sight of his getting riled up. Draco just seethed out, "My father is in Azkaban, I doubt anyone will be telling him anything."

Mercifully, Theo hadn't seemed to have thought through his impromptu threat, and he was quiet, fuming silently at the loss. Draco just allowed a satisfied smirk to crawl onto his features.

Hermione felt ill when she made her way to the Great Hall. Ginny was sure to notice something was up, and Lavender would have no trouble filling her in. Not that Lav had a reason not to tell Ginny, as she probably wouldn't even be aware of the gravity of the situation.

Ginny, however…

Hermione shook her head, one hand clutching tightly to the books at her chest. She was half convinced that she should just seek refuge in the library once again, but that presented her with the possibility of facing Malfoy, which was more than she could bear, at this point.

So she drudged her way towards where Ginny sat, and tried to plaster a complacent smile onto her face. Lavender appeared at her shoulder, grinning ear-to-ear, and saying, "That was an insightful class!"

"Yes, ever so insightful." Hermione echoed, her nails digging into the pages she was clasping. Ginny spotted them and grinned, waving. Lavender skipped over, and Hermione just quickened her pace slightly, in no hurry to reach the table.

Sitting down, she pulled open her book, decidedly preferring to read rather than be subjected to Ginny's interview that was sure to come judging by her inquisitive glance. Hermione looked up briefly to get her food, taking a small bite before returning to the book. Lavender was engaging Ginny in conversation, or trying to. Ginny was staring quizzically at Hermione.

"Today in potions we studied Amortentia!" This caught Ginny's attention, and Hermione noticed her gaze switch to Lav, who was nodding excitedly at her own declaration. "Everyone had to announce what they smelled in the potion!"

"I see." Ginny said shortly. Hermione risked a glance up, and immediately regretted it. Ginny had returned her original gaze. "And what did you smell, Mione?"

"Nothing important, I assure you." Hermione said quickly, but Lavender just brushed her off, turning to Ginny.

"She smelled floss, and grass, and parchment and-"

"First of all," Hermione cut in, flustered. Ginny arched a brow, turning to her. "It was spearmint toothpaste and _not _floss. It was also _freshly-mowed _grass and _fresh _parchment." Hermione corrected, silently praying that Lavender would leave it at that. Ginny's brows furrowed subtly, silently asking why Hermione was acting strangely if that was all.

"And apples!" Lavender finished off, and Hermione winced. Ginny's brows now flew high on her forehead, and she stared openly at Hermione, stunned. Hermione flushed, dropping her gaze once more.

"Interesting." Was all she said, but the tone in which she said it conveyed fully that this was to be discussed between them later. After a moment, her voice light and casual, she added, "Dare I ask what Malfoy smelled?" Lavender laughed.

"His smells weren't actually what you'd expect." She commented, and Ginny rested her chin on her hand, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Is that so?" She asked, and Lav nodded. Hermione's eyes pleaded with Lavender, who seemed not to notice.

"They were actually quite normal and…sweet." She continued, "Hermione, help me out, would you? It was a campfire, I remember that one."

"Campfire?" Ginny cut in, "I would've thought camping was beneath someone of his stature." Hermione remained silent.

"And he smelled books, which I find a bit odd, considering that he seems to hate reading." Lavender frowned, and Ginny flicked her gaze to Hermione, who wished suddenly that Voldemort would come back to life and kill her now. "And roses." Lavender further creased her brow, "There was something else, I know there was." She looked up, "Do you remember, Mione?"

She did. Vividly.

"No." She said, too quickly. Ginny stared.

"Oh! I think I remember, it was something to do with the forest!" Lavender exclaimed a moment later. Ginny's eyes lit with sudden recognition. Hermione wanted the earth to swallow her whole.

"It wasn't 'the forest after it rains' by any chance, was it?" She remarked, and Lavender nodded eagerly.

"That's what it was! How'd you know?"

Hermione closed her eyes, squeezing them shut. Ginny'd been present the first time Ron had told Hermione about the scent.

"Lucky guess." Ginny said dryly, giving Mione another _we'll talk later _glare. Hermione prepared to reply, but just then Luna approached.

"Hello." She said, sitting down next to them, "Are you three going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" After McGonagall had become Headmistress, she'd decided that those old enough to go to Hogsmeade could go every weekend, for which Hermione was thrilled – Ron and Harry had agreed to visit whenever they were available. "I can't wait. Neville and I are going together."

"Of course!" Ginny said eagerly, "I asked Harry to visit."

"Is he coming?" Hermione asked immediately, "Is he bringing Ron?" She was surprised at the underlying note of anxiety that had trickled into her tone. Ginny jolted, clearly having noticed it, too.

"I don't know." Ginny said slowly, "He hasn't responded yet. Mione," She added, as an afterthought, "Can you help me with some homework in the library?" Hermione just nodded, her stomach flipping as she gathered her things.

Draco was in Hermione's spot. He partially hoped she'd come in, trying to avoid either him or her friends as she clearly had a habit of doing. The rest of him just wanted to stay away from everyone's contact.

He flipped through a history book, paying no attention to the words gracing his eyes. He merely scanned the pages for interesting points, which were few and far between, before flipping the page.

"Hermione Granger, you've got some explaining to do!" A harsh whisper pierced the air, not far from Draco. His ears perked up, straining to listen. "What is going on?"

"I don't _know_, Ginny!" Hermione's voice was tired, and he could almost imagine her eyes glinting with a resigned fire. She repeated herself, quieter this time, "I don't know."

"Well, do you mind figuring it out before my brother comes up here?" The girl, Ginny, asked.

"Oh." Hermione sighed, a revelation. "Ginny, if you think that my feelings are wavering for Ron, you'd better come to your senses. I love Ron."

Draco felt a piece of his heart crack, but just shook his head, forcing the throbbing pain to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to think about that. Ginny was speaking again, "I don't doubt that, but you need to tell him or he's going to jump to conclusions."

"And telling him will be any better than that?" Hermione countered, and Draco was obliged to agree with her. "I already told you – that's not going to work. Not with Ron."

"He's not an idiot!" Ginny replied, and there was a pause, before, "Well, he's not dumb enough to have the way your acting go straight over his head."

"I'll figure out something to tell him." Hermione sighed, and Draco stood, creeping closer to the sound of their voices. "I just need to get this sorted on my own."

"Okay." He sensed that Ginny, as hardheaded as she was, knew that Hermione wasn't one to cross. He'd learned that the hard way. Several times. "Mione, just make sure that Draco keeps his distance. He's bound to take your declaration the wrong way, and you can't let that slimy git-" Draco rolled his eyes, rounding the corner and coming face-to-face with Ginny. Hermione still had her back to him. Ginny's eyes widened as she faltered, looking both embarrassed and irritated.

"Blimey, Weasley," he drawled, and watched with a degree of satisfaction as Hermione stiffened, "Why don't you tell us what you really think?"

"You've been eavesdropping!" Ginny growled, fighting to keep her voice low. Draco sneered faintly.

"You whisper with a rather loud volume." He countered. Hermione hadn't turned around yet, and he realized that that was by design.

"Have you no decency, Malfoy?" Ginny argued, her hands balled into fists, "You have no respect for privacy."

"You're just getting that now?" Draco smirked, and finally Hermione spun to face him, her red turning a violent shade of pink.

"How much did you hear?" She asked warily. He shrugged, trying to ignore the pleading look in her eyes.

"How much did you wish I didn't?" He asked in reply, raising an eyebrow. She arched an eyebrow in reply, her plea fading into a low-simmering fire. She opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it shut a moment later. Her brown eyes leveled with his, a mixture of annoyance and confusion and something else Draco couldn't quite identify.

"I'll see you in class." She finally said, before nodding a salutation to Ginny and hurrying out of the library. Draco watched her leave with some fascination, as he watched everything she did. It seemed that there wasn't anything that she did that wasn't innately interesting.

When he turned around again, Ginny was scowling at him. He had found that the youngest of the redheaded siblings was by far the fiercest. Draco supposed that was a direct result of growing up with six older brothers, especially given Fred and George.

Draco steeled himself, trying not to flinch. There were many things he was guilty about, some more than others. Fred was one of them.

"Listen, Malfoy," Ginny's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "You mind your boundaries with her."

"Hermione?" He blinked, taking in the serious look in her face, "You don't have to worry about that."

"I think I do." She responded.

"Hermione can very well defend herself, in case you hadn't noticed." Draco leaned against the bookshelf.

Ginny's gaze neither wavered nor softened, and Draco resigned himself to say, "If I step out of line, you have my full permission to hex me. Though," he added, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "You'd be too late as I'd already have hexed myself."

This seemed to both get the point across and surprise her. She blinked, widened her eyes fractionally, offered a curt nod, and said, "I'll hold you to that, Malfoy."

"I'll count on it, Weasley." He replied, and she nodded again, before turning abruptly and following the same trail Hermione'd taken.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had become an object of obsessive dread for Hermione over the course of the last twenty-four hours. So, when she reached the door to the classroom, her gut wrenched painfully, and she was inclined to linger in the hallway once more, but elected that if she did that as frequently as she had been as of late, people would begin to notice.

Taking a shaky breath, she marched onward, taking her seat near the front, glad that, for once, Draco was sitting behind her. The rest of her classmates filed in slowly, and Lavender came to a stop next to Hermione. It was strange, she supposed, that her and Lavender got on so well now, given the history with Ron, but Hermione was thankful for it.

"Good afternoon, children!" Professor Trifleton clasped her hands in front of her as she addressed her class. Hermione was grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. "There needn't be an explanation as to what's happening today, so get with your partners and practice!" She said it in an all-too-chipper manner that managed to aggravate Hermione to no end. There was a bustle of noise and movement as the students around her stood to gather with their partners.

Hermione stood carefully, the knot in her stomach making every movement painful. Locking her eyes on the floor, she trudged towards where she figured Draco would be. She let out a yelp as her hip connected with a table she had missed observing due to her concentration fixating on the floor.

"Good Merlin, Granger," A drawling voice said from just beyond the table. He sounded normal, which surprised her. She stiffened, making her way past the table. Was he just going to pretend as if it never happened? His next comment answered that, "Someone might think you've been avoiding me all day."

She didn't answer, and took a seat. Hermione could practically feel him roll his eyes, and he said, "The least you could do is look at me, Granger. I promise I won't burn your eyes out."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She managed, her throat dry as she tentatively lifted her eyes to meet his. Shivers coursed through her when she did.

They were like ice.

Sharp and slick and contrastingly cold compared to his casual tone. Wordlessly, he held his wand to her head. Hermione glared, swatting it away, "Who says you get to invade my brain first?"

"I think I've earned as much," There was the faintest tracing of a sneer.

"How do you figure that, Malfoy?" She asked haughtily. This time the ice slipped fractionally from his eyes, and she realized that that, too, was a mask. He was neither casual nor harsh and that brief glimpse showed her that he was something far worse than that.

He was vulnerable.

She swallowed, nodding at his wand after a moment. His mouth opened, but he appeared to think better of saying anything. Draco raised his wand, his voice low when he whispered, "_Legilimens._"

At first, he wasn't sure it had worked. That perhaps she'd blocked him out before he'd even gotten in. Given that it was Hermione, it wouldn't have surprised him for her to have mastered it already.

It was around that time that Draco realized that, while remaining seated in the same classroom, at the same table, he wasn't looking at Hermione across from him. He was staring at himself.

That was startling in and of itself. Like looking in a mirror, but not. He could tell it was him, but he didn't look anything like remembered seeing in the mirror every day.

A feeling of dread swelled in Hermione, and consequently Draco, and he realized with a degree of surprise that this was a memory from about a minute ago.

His eyes were hard, cold. Did he put on that front so effortlessly? He hadn't realized he'd done it. Hermione noticed, too. Draco wanted out of this memory, probably as much as Hermione wanted him out.

It was too weird. He looked sallow and harsh and, well, cruel. Honestly, it stunned him how familiar that expression looked. Impenetrable, unaffected, calm, collected. Pale eyes, pale hair, pale skin.

He flinched inwardly.

When had he become his father?

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm sorry that this update took a bit longer, but it's been a long last few days. I'm in a bunch of advanced classes this year, and they decided to load me with homework lately. Anyways, thanks for reading and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm so so sorry for not updating sooner! Life got busy and I got busy and forgot about this until I was going through my documents, and came across this! But I'm back now, so never fear! :)**

**Disclaimer: All rights to JK Rowling, who could write a grocery list and I would wait in line to get it.**

Hermione found herself staring at Draco again, who had somehow thrown himself from her mind. He looked stricken.

"Draco…?" Hermione asked quietly, and he just stared at her, eyes wide. "Are you alright?" He blinked, shaking his head faintly, and Hermione nearly gaped at the admission. Instantly replaying the memory he'd witnessed, she frowned, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

He seemed to realize her perception of things, and jolted, coming back to his senses. His back straightened, shoulders rolling back, and something changed in his eyes. They went from a stormy silver to a hard glacial. Draco blinked again, head tilting and angling downward. Hermione watched, intrigued, as an increasingly angry expression crawled across his face. He blinked several more times before meeting her eyes again, the emotionless look not mingling well with the horror and anger in his eyes.

"I can't… I can't do it." His voice was soft, and if she hadn't been paying attention, she would've missed it entirely. Draco probably would've preferred that.

"Do what?" She asked, but he just shook his head slowly, then more fervently. After a moment, he stopped abruptly, his gaze resting on her wand. Hermione dropped her eyes as well, focusing on it.

Technically, it was her turn, and she curled her hand tighter around the wand, raising it cautiously, questioningly. Draco wore a thinly veiled look of terror, which thoroughly unsettled Hermione, given that she could see it through the layers upon layers of masks he had piled on in the last thirty seconds. He dropped his head in a resigned nod, knowing that they didn't exactly have a choice.

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at her building eagerness, and the insatiable curiosity of digging deeper into Draco Malfoy's labyrinth of a mind. It was like unlocking one of the world's best kept secrets.

"_Legilimens._" She said, and watched him set his jaw before she crashed into the first layer of his mind.

There seemed to be a familiarity about it this time – as if her last experience had granted her a bit of control over the endeavor. She somehow could see his mind without succumbing to the first thing he thought of.

That made sense, Hermione supposed. Before, all his memories were obviously not ones he'd wanted her to see, and what do people think of when they don't want someone to know something? The very thing they wished not to.

She grinned inwardly at her triumph, noticing that there seemed to be layers in his mind. The first were surface thoughts, where she saw a constant stream of words flying past before she could register them. Running behind them were an undercurrent of flashing images, and beyond that still were scenes playing out at varying speeds and clarities.

She perused the depths, mentally going nearer to the memories at the back, looking for something that caught her eye. When it did, she momentarily lost control due to surprise. The flicker she'd seen was one that radiated with a pure, unadulterated happiness.

And then she didn't have time to look back.

She was in a room. A child's room. More specifically she was on six-year-old Draco's bed, curled up and struggling to read from a picture book. It was very hard to stay focused, what with the cartoon animals hopping and strutting across the pages, but Little Draco seemed to be reading relatively well.

Evidently, he disagreed. A surge of frustration shot through her, and he huffed, throwing the book across the room. Crossing his arms, he glared up and out of the large window, framed by thick green drapes.

A knock sounded at his door, startling both Little Draco and Hermione. He didn't answer, didn't need to, as the door had already begun to open. Narcissa Malfoy stepped in, a small smile on her face. Draco's eyes snapped to the discarded book, shame swelling within him. Hermione thought the strong emotion was a bit unwarranted.

"Draco," Narcissa's eyes followed his, and she faltered. "Having troubles again?"

"The pictures are distracting." He said, voice tinged with guilt. Narcissa moved closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. Hermione noticed she looked younger, and not just physically. There was a sparkle to her eyes and a warmth in her smile.

"I'm sure you'll get it eventually." She pulled Draco towards her. Hermione smiled along with Draco at the tender action, "If I know you – and I do – you won't set that book down until you've figured out every last word."

"Daddy wanted it done by tonight." Little Draco sniffed, uncertain. There was a pause, and then Narcissa pulled away to look Draco in the eyes.

"Do you want a snack?" She asked, and befuddlement rocked Hermione.

"But Daddy-"

"The house elves can bring us a snack while we read." She continued, standing up and walking over to the book, "I don't know about you, but I prefer to read with a full stomach."

"You'll read with me?" Little Draco asked, "Will Daddy be okay with that?" Narcissa's smile tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Daddy will be fine with it." She replied, and beckoned one of the house elves. Hermione glared at Narcissa, willing her to free the elf, but got distracted when Draco hesitated to allow his mom next to him on the bed. She handed him his snack, pulling him closer and opening the book.

She began to read, pointing to the words as she read them, allowing Draco to commit to memory what each word sounded like. He leaned into her, giggling occasionally in a way that Hermione had never heard from him before.

The memory continued, and Hermione welcomed the serenity. The peace in that single moment, even though not hers, was the kind where for one moment, one small fraction of time, nothing was wrong.

It surprised her, if she allowed herself to really think about it. After all the tumultuous emotions radiating from Draco at all other times, to see such a memory in his possession was a bit shocking.

But then, that perfect moment ended in the beat of a heart.

Lucius apparated into the room, a cracking noise accompanying him. Hermione jolted, as did young Draco. Guilt thickened in his blood, and fear curdled in his stomach. Narcissa tensed at his side. Hermione almost yelped, wanting to hide, until she remembered that she need not to – this was only a memory, after all.

Lucius Malfoy was angry, possessing the cold fury she'd only ever witnessed from afar, and had never had the mindset to pay much attention to. His eyes held no love, just an obsidian sharpness. Every jagged line of his face stood prominently on his pale skin.

"Lucius!" Narcissa stood up, "You're home early." His eyes dropped from Draco's, to the book, to Narcissa, and back again.

"Dobby told me you were in here reading. Together." His words were clipped, "I thought I made it clear that you were to learn to read on your own, Draco, or could you not manage such a trivial accomplishment?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but closed it after a moment. Lucius nodded to himself, preparing to speak again, but Hermione never got the chance to hear what he said, because she was thrown violently from the memory with a sharp whisper of _No. _Draco, it seemed, had had enough of her legilimency for the current time.

Hermione didn't want to leave, though, and she latched onto the nearest memory – which also appeared to be connected to Lucius, likely due to Draco's thinking of him. She found herself standing before the head of Malfoy Manor once again.

The anger had vanished, replaced with an intense concern. Narcissa stood next to him, her hands clutching his arm tightly. Her eyes rested on Draco with a profound affection – the love of a mother. Draco was older in this memory. Hermione wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did.

And he was terrified.

"He's just a boy." Narcissa whispered to her husband in a low voice. Hermione suspected Draco wasn't meant to hear that, but he had, and it didn't do much to ease his tension. Lucius didn't reply to her, and continued to stare fixatedly at Draco.

"Do it for our family." He said, and Hermione felt Draco nod, his forearm throbbing faintly. With a start, she realized what was happening. And that jolt was all it took to relinquish her hold on his mind, and he shoved her out without a moment's hesitation, another _No_ finding its way to her mind.

Draco's blood boiled – not at Hermione. She'd simply done what she'd always done – learned something and done it brilliantly. No, he was mad that he'd only just managed to push her out. He was Draco _bloody _Malfoy, he should be able to control who could see into his mind.

Then again, he was _Draco _bloody Malfoy, the never-ending disappointment. He strived to be the best; he strived to become a better man than his father. Neither of which had he accomplished.

Hermione stared at him, her brown eyes tinted with concern. Draco hated being on the receiving end of such emotions, as if he needed any reminder of how fragile he actually was. His fists clenched unintentionally, and she frowned deeper.

"Draco," Her voice was quiet, almost timid. He raised an eyebrow, and she continued, "Was that right after you became a Death Eater?"

"Blimey, Granger, what gave it away?" He asked, tone laced with sarcasm, "The throbbing arm or the distraught parents?" She blinked, not put off in the slightest. In fact, it seemed to do rather the opposite.

"Actually," She said, her undertone slightly haughty, "It was the terror." Then, seeing his expression, her features softened considerably. Realizing his face had contorted into an odd twisted expression of pain, he quickly rectified it, face hardening instinctively.

Almost immediately afterwards, his heart sank, recalling the image of himself from Granger's view. Draco grit his teeth, mentally pulling at the mask on his face, to no avail.

When he risked a glance at Hermione, he found her watching him intently head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed to an analytical squint. Draco stopped breathing momentarily, heart seizing painfully when she shook her head to herself, snapping her gaze away from his. And with that, all his attempts to break down the wall in him were crushed to oblivion.

As it always had been, and probably always would be.

But then she looked back curiously a moment later, arching a brow and saying, "We've plenty of time left, and it's your turn. Aren't you going to take advantage of that opportunity?" She gestured to her head.

"I'm not sure why you're in such a hurry." He muttered, nevertheless pulling his wand up to level with her forehead. She shrugged, face reading nonchalance but eyes sparkling with anxiety.

"I've nothing to hide."

Draco smirked, the words coming as almost a challenge to him. She'd seen some of his darkest memories, the least she could do was show him hers in return. His voice held an air of confidence, ringing like his father's through the air. Not for nothing, he'd always wanted his father's confidence. "_Legilimens._"

No amount of confidence could have prepared him for the memory he abruptly landed in.

It was dark, and cold. He realized a moment later that the source of the cold was water that seemed to have drenched Hermione's clothes. Ron was there, too, equally drenched, and staring at Hermione in the way that always made Draco want to hex something.

Worse still, Hermione noticed the look, and her heart – and his, subsequently – swelled at it. Draco felt nauseated as the two continued to watch each other, the tension palpable. Hermione's hand flinched with movement, as if she'd begun to make a gesture but aborted it last minute.

Her courage rebuilt within her, and Draco knew what was about to happen. Worry and pain melted into a deep yearning within her. Her hand moved again, but this time, the rest of her body followed. She practically threw herself into Ron, her hands grabbing at his head and pulling it towards her.

Draco got an upfront view of Ron's eyes widening before Hermione had clenched her eyes shut. Hermione's longing neither left nor strengthened with the kiss, rather, it seemed to settle with satisfaction within her.

It repulsed Draco. He realized then that Hermione could've easily ousted him from the memory by this point, and that she hadn't caused him to infer that she was using it to send him a message. A wet, messy one with a vice grip.

The two were still kissing, and Draco's annoyance built, strengthening on itself as he willed Hermione to push him away. As he willed her to tell him this wasn't what she wanted, that she didn't like him like that.

When she actually did, he nearly fell over. Hermione did, too. He regained his composure; Hermione did, too.

Draco blinked, surprised and confused. Hermione's eyes blinked as well, in the memory. With a start, he realized he controlled her. Somehow, he'd taken over the memory and was _altering _it.

He scrambled to pull himself from the memory, and a moment later found himself in the safety of his seat, a look of incredulous horror on Hermione's face. He just glared at her.

"Merlin's beard, Granger." He said, and the horror gave way to a wary confusion. "A simple 'I'm not interested' would've sufficed!"

"How did you do that?" She asked, voice quivering slightly. "That's not how that scene played out." He didn't answer. "How did you do it?" There was a desperate undertone now.

"I don't know." He said, leaning back. She stared at him.

"You don't _know_?" Hermione threw her arms up, "How the hell can you do that without knowing how?"

"I don't know!" He clasped his hands tightly in his lap, "I just willed it to happen… and it did."

"That's not normal."

"A lot of things about me aren't normal." He said blandly, "In fact, I'd wager to say that nothing about me is normal."

"You know what I mean." She snapped.

"What do you suggest we do?" He said, hoping he sounded resigned rather than frightened. He'd just _messed with her memory_. A fact that he was in severe denial about.

"I think we need to see Professor McGonagall."

Draco took note of the way the sentence did not end in a question mark.

**A/N: So there you have it! The next installment! Please, as per usual, leave your thoughts below and let me know what you think! The next chapter will be up soon (hopefully).**


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